


The City, Not The Planet.

by Mme10thDoctor



Category: Doctor Who, Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Character Study, F/M, Not Canon Compliant, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-09
Updated: 2016-03-20
Packaged: 2018-05-25 17:56:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 12
Words: 28,472
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6205069
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mme10thDoctor/pseuds/Mme10thDoctor
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After a Cornelian choice, the Doctor regrets. Can he undo the aftermath, and have his (their) happy end? If yes, how? Will the cure be worse than the illness itself?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Resolution

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: I do not owe Doctor Who, nor its characters. However, I owe all the mistakes.

_I live, I die: I drown and I burn,_  
I endure at once extreme heat and cold;  
Life is at once too soft and too hard,  
I feel boredom mingled with joys. 

_At the same time, I laugh and I cry,_  
And I endure many torments of pleasures,  
My fortune fades away, and lasts forever,  
At the same time, I wither and I Bloom. 

_Thus I suffer love’s inconstancies_  
And when I believe I will suffer more,  
Without knowing, I find myself at peace. 

_Then, when I feel my joy is certain,_  
And I am on top of what I could wish right now,  
Love casts me back into my former grief.  
**Louise Labé : 1524 – 1566** Sonnet VIII 

**Chapter 1: Resolution**

The Doctor, lost in thoughts, fiddled aimlessly with some levers. Actually he was more than just absent-minded: he was literally panicking, no less. As usual, he was keeping his best poker face, letting nothing of his internal struggle appear on his —fake— serene features. Of course he was anything but at peace, how could he? He was completely obsessed with their latest adventure: one of their most dangerous.

It had been a very close call. This time they had very nearly lost one another for good. The indomitable 'stuff of legends' had the nasty habit to run into dangers as others run to Tesco. They couldn’t help it. He had even suspected that his TARDIS meddled herself. Was she trying to distract herself from her pain —and boredom in some measure— of being at present the very last of her kind, by throwing them into risky adventures? 

The Doctor was infinitely relieved to be back on the TARDIS —the two of them unharmed— behind her closed doors. Above all, he was relieved to have Rose back. Full stop.

Once Rose miraculously back home, they had thrown themselves one into each other’s arms. Each clinging to the other as if they were a lifeline. Each relieved, and so scared at the same time. Each feeling the nefarious shadow of the creature still lingering above them.

He was in full emotional turmoil. They had had a narrow escape this time again, but what about the next? It was mandatory that he kept Rose safe, even if it meant having to give her up. Rassilon only knew how much it cost him to take this decision, and stick to it, once and for all.  And the sooner, the better. Whatever his hearts might think.

 

The prophecy of the beast in the pit had scared him to death, even though he had kept a —false— brave face. Long before their adventure with the Wire, he had felt, deep down, the Timelines twist and move in a direction less than reassuring. The close future seemed full of big, dark clouds, and there was nothing he could do to prevent them, nor to protect Rose.

Unless...

He might have lied to Rose, and asserted her that it was all a deception of the beast to take control, manipulate and win, the Doctor himself didn't believe in his own lies. Therefore, terror knotted his insides. He was the smartest and powerful being in the Universe, but, at present, he was powerless to dodge their Fate.

Being powerless (or feeling powerless, which was substantially the same) included several domains, all of them connected, from near and far, with Rose; Rassilon, he had almost allowed himself to kiss her. Out of fear of never seeing her again, not counting the yearning for her which he was finding increasingly hard to keep in check and hide. By chance he had chickened out at the very last moment, but he had been very close to... It would have been a disaster from the point of view of rationality, but as far as his hearts —and other parts— were concerned it would have been... fantastic.

He was about to go down into the pit with Ida, even though he hadn't the slightest idea of what they had to face, or, if there _was_ something to face, even. Rose dallied and bantered not to show how worried she really was. Obviously he knew better, so he had hugged her tightly: the very same embrace they had shared under the black hole the day prior. Suddenly, he had felt the irrepressible need to be comforted and reassured, so he had pulled back slightly to look at her in the eyes. The emotions —laid bare before him— which he had read in her hazel pools, had made him lean in and almost...

The Doctor wondered if he had made the right choice not kissing her or if he would regret it for the rest of his lives. The second case was most likely to be the truer one as, for a very long time, he had been itching to do just that.

 

Rose had left for a relaxing bath, the Doctor, his hearts torn and in a daze, entered the coordinates for the Powell Estate. There. Done. No way back. So be it.

 

♂♀

 

“I think that, after our latest adventure, you deserve to get pampered by your mother. Besides, I've some repairs to do; the fall in the pit has shaken the poor old girl.” The Doctor's eyes were stubbornly fixed on the screen, carefully avoiding Rose's. For sure, as smart as she was, she would've easily discovered his projects and asked him to stay, and he had no intention to give in and let her stay. She had to go. Whatever the cost for his hearts and sanity, not to mention hers.

“Are we going to stay long?” Her fingers played nervously with her earring, a worried look on her features. She was torn between her longing to see her mum, her wish to spare the Doctor a stressful experience, and the yearning for another adventure. If possible, not so perilous as their latest one. But above all —as she had said, aloud, so long ago, “better with two,” adding silently: “three's a crowd”.

The Doctor, still avoiding her inquiring gaze, felt a wave of uneasiness and vague panic invade him. Although it wasn't the first lie of his very long career, far from it, he hated lying to her. He wondered if she suspected something, if he had let the cat out the bag somehow. The idea that he could, he _had_ to impose Rose such pain was unbearable. And what about his own pain? 

 

He had already 'dropped' a companion; Sarah Jane for instance. It hadn't been easy, of course, as he cared for her, just as he cared for all his past companions. Yet she was ready to go, her time had come, whatever she might have felt at that time, and later on. As for him, this was the first time in centuries that he was feeling completely unprepared to let a companion, Rose, go. He doubted he would ever be ready.

At that time, he had been well aware that Sarah Jane had had a crush on him and that she must have suffered a great deal of his abandonment. He didn't dare think about Rose's suffering to be. Besides his —ahem— own feelings. Alas, _this_ would be just another very good reason for his, already well nourished, guilt complex and suffering.

“So, Doctor, are we going to stay long?” she asked again.

He had kept silent a second too long before answering, plunged as he was in his own memories and thoughts. He sighed, and, just in case, put back his 'I'm always all right' mask,  
“nah. Just a few days, the time needed to recover and fix a couple of things.”

“Well then, just a small bag or so. Right?”

The Doctor nodded briskly, a tight smile on his lips, his hearts tightened in a steel walrus at the mere thought of what he was going to be forced to do. What he was determined to do. Once not being a custom, he wasn't going to chicken out. And he'll pay for the consequences. 

 

♂♀

 

After materializing the TARDIS at their usual place, they crossed hand in hand the alley leading to the building where lived Rose's mother. 

The Doctor, who still sported a fake jovial and nonchalant expression, avoided to focus upon the backpack perched on his companion's shoulder: it was well and truly too poorly filled for a stay that would reveal itself as definitive. She was going to miss all her things; all the souvenirs accumulated during their trips, all the photos of them she loved to tape up on her vanity mirror. _He_ would still have them on board, but what about her? What would she have left as a reminder of him? He sighed wearily and clutched a bit more, and for the last time, Rose's hand in his.

 

The three of them chatted aimlessly while comfortably seated on the sofa with a cup of Jackie's excellent tea on their laps. Rose carefully avoiding topics that might upset or irritate her mother, and the Doctor letting Rose held the biggest part of the conversation, his mind light-years away. The urge to run was giving him tingling in his feet. Yet the idea that the final act was to be played, that _he_ was the one going to play the puppeteer, was hurting him too much.

I, uh, I'm off, going calibrate the... Yes, that's it... while you, uh, enjoy your mum.” The Doctor, seemingly ill-at-ease, had already extricated himself from the sofa, and made a vague gesture towards the door. 

Rose looked up at him taken by an inexplicable and sudden concern. “Doctor, are you sure that you're all right? You look really weird.” 

Everything is fine Rose, I'll just tinker around. Just a few hours, nothing to worry about, I'll be right back. You'll hardly know that I'm gone. Moreover, I'll be right there, on the TARDIS.” The Doctor had reached the door, half-opened it, and was going to storm outside, when, taken by an impulse, crossed in two long strides the distance which separated him from the sofa —from Rose— and squeezed her into a tight and desperate embrace. 

♂♀

Rose was worried and unable to prevent a painful sensation in the pit of her stomach: something wasn't right. Call it intuition, call it instinct; she just knew. Even though she had laughed and comforted Jackie's maternal concern, Rose wasn't feeling reassured. At all. 

She knew the Doctor well, and everything indicated that something was wrong. She kept telling herself that there were a thing or two he wasn't telling her, that something worried him. But, of course, that was so much him: brave face, and beaming smile. Maybe she worried for nothing. But still... the feeling deep inside spoke volumes. 

Later that night —lying in bed and unable to sleep— fixing the ceiling without seeing it, and chewing a lock of hair, Rose wondered if she had made a misstep and shown despite herself how much in love she was with him. Had she scared the Doctor to death, and made him run as fast as his legs allowed it? Had she betrayed her mostly guarded secret by suggesting that they could share a house? He had looked embarrassed, so she had backpedaled and diverted his uneasiness from the burning topic. 

Yet there had been this _incident_ at the Sanctuary Base; but both of them had done what they were undisputed champions of: they had ignored it, and never ever broached the subject since. He had almost kissed her, she was positive. They were sharing their usual “good luck” hug, before he descended into the pit, when the Doctor had suddenly acted out of character: he had pulled back, tilted his head, stared intently at her, then... had started rambling a thousand words per minute. And the moment had passed. Too bad. 

She had spent ages dreaming that one day, finally, he would kiss her. Since he had short hair and a leather jacket, to be honest. 

From time to time she thought she read something in his beautiful eyes, were they blue or brown. She had hoped for a long time. In the end, she had resigned herself to the idea that nothing would ever take place between them, for he didn't feel the same thing as her.  
Therefore, she had thrown her hopes out the window and hidden, the best she could, the depth of her feelings for the alien. It was embarrassing enough as it was, without adding the embarrassment of being discovered her biggest secret. By _him_ of all others. As for her mum, or Mickey, she didn't want delude herself believing they didn't know... Of course they did! 

She returned to the present moment and the inexplicable Doctor's absence.  
The TARDIS was still there, where he had 'parked' her a few hours earlier, she had kept checking almost every hour. So what? Why had he looked so peculiar? Why hadn't he returned yet? 

Suddenly she heard the unmistakable noise of the TARDIS' dematerialisation, snapping like a whiplash and tearing the silence of the night. This made her jump out of bed, catapult to the door, then run breathlessly —still in her pyjamas— towards the place where the TARDIS was supposed to wait for her. Just to see her fade and disappear before her disbelieving eyes. 


	2. Pain, consequences and resilience

Hours and hours passed and still no Doctor on the horizon. Hours became days, then quickly turned into weeks and months. Rose was overwhelmed with grief.

No signs of the Doctor, no messages nor phone calls. Nothing at all. On the place an unbearable emptiness filled his absence, and his coward abandonment. Abandonment even more unsustainable and unfair since left unexplained: just acted behind her back. 

Rose had been experiencing several emotions, confused and intertwined. Acute pain, dull rage, resignation and acceptance fighted for dominance. From time to time, she felt also a healthy determination to snatch by more or less legal means —never mind the galaxy— an explanation whatsoever; even the most unlikely (as soon as she would have managed to grab him, that is). But most of all she wanted to see him, listen his reasons... and believe him.

 

Amongst all those emotions there were also a few almost-murderous instincts towards a certain Time Lord we would not name. She powerfully wished to reduce him in the same state as her heart: into pieces. More than just into pieces: she itched to reduce him into a formless pulp when she would have finished with him. Her rage nourished herself, and served her as a fuel to go on until the next day without falling apart. Not too much at least.

Her mother and Rose's friends tried to help her the best they could. Everybody pressed her affectionately to move on, and stop cherishing the memories of a _glorious and adventurous_ past. 

Jackie was adamant in insisting to stop cherishing a man, an alien moreover, who deserved neither her love nor her sacrifice, and her friends kept introducing her all the men not already taken they could think of. Rose would have never thought they were so numerous...

This general relentlessness against the Doctor, made her even more rebellious and more intractable. She claimed doggedly that _he_ deserved, more than any other in the universe, to be loved and have a loving hand in his. Although she had to make a lot of work on herself not to feel jealous just at the thought of another (female, to be precise) hand than hers in his. Despite everything, despite his unforgivable behavior, the inveterate coward (plus a few others well learnt epithets), was more than worth of her love. 

Keisha and Shireen dragged her by force to the pub. Despite Rose being peevish and discouraging dismissively the admirers, her friends stubbornly continued to drag her there as often as they succeeded. Much to her displeasure, the admirers weren't discouraged either.  
If only instead of a Paul, a Sean or a James it was certain alien...  
No, she wasn't going to take that path. She had to forget about him and never ever think about him again. Full stop.

Jackie had let her know that she would be there when needed, but had also told her not to feel compelled to open up if she didn't feel ready. In any case she would be there for her daughter. Whether Rose liked it or not!

Even though Rose knew that Jackie wanted more than anything to talk about it, she didn't feel brave enough to discuss the matter. Several months later she was still recovering from the shock and was still mourning the Doctor. 

Still, she continued to cling to the improbable hope of seeing him reappear one day and get, if not the comfort of his embrace, at least a justification. Whatever it could be.

She missed the Doctor terribly, and was worried sick about him. She wondered all the time how he was, if he was hurt or if he had regenerated. Maybe she had even met the— moron in the street and hadn't recognized him. Had he even once set foot on Earth? Was he alone? Who would protect him? Who would hold his hand? Had he even found someone to travel with? She hoped and feared so at the same time.

Despite her resolution not to think about him, she kept thinking about him, and kept asking herself countless questions. Without an answer.

Rose felt even more the vacuum left by Mickey while scolding herself for her selfishness, her carelessness and cruelty towards her ex boyfriend. The sombre irony of a shared fate made her feel even more guilty. It was the biter bit, the giving up given up.

Mickey had had the dignity to go head-up, by his own choice. He had stayed in a world where he felt that he would have been needed. She admired him for that, for having had the nerve to do what she, herself, should've done since the famous story with the... 'Court de France.' Her blood still boiled just by thinking about it, and she refused categorically to pronounce _that_ name. That hated name which carried so much suffering, so many dashed hopes, and a sudden awakening which had left her as sore as a real knocked down.  
They had never ever broached the subject, like so many others, and what had happened in Versailles, real or fantasized, had to stay in Versailles.

 

One morning, several months later, born to start and end like many others that had preceded it, Rose got up with a smile on her lips. She felt light at last, freed and ready to leave behind her the Doctor's parenthesis, and move on. She was going to take charge and rebuild her life. She was a fighter and wasn't called Tyler for nothing. 

Finally, she was ready to face the past, and really talk; not only about her suffering, but also about the wonderful moments spent exploring the Universe with the Doctor. She knew the perfect person to whom unburden herself: a person with whom she had so much in common, and who had, herself, so much to share. She had preciously kept Sarah Jane's number. She felt ready to contact her. So, without any further delay, she did precisely that.

 

♂♀ 

 

Sarah Jane, bless her, didn't exacerbated her suffering betraying her surprise to see Rose alone, but welcomed her with open arms letting Rose talk or stay silent. They took the habit to regularly meet each other, and if at first their conversations over a cup of tea had mainly a single object —the Doctor— later on they found other common points and interests. Sarah Jane, as well as Rose, was delighted to see the progress in the healing process that the other made and supported the other woman with all her renewed strength.

Sarah Jane had adopted Luke and had resumed, with more passion than ever, her job as investigative journalist and no mystery resisted her long. As for Rose, she was more than on the right track towards a new life; certainly less adventurous but still full of beautiful promises. 

At present Sarah Jane —without worrying too much— could share with Rose the reason for her surprise about the Doctor's actions, and talk openly about some burning matters.

“Rose, I have lived longer than you, I have known the Doctor for a long time, and I can read his features, even though he has changed his face: if there was a man in love, it was him!”

Rose made a grimace of disbelief.

“No, let me talk it out, please. I have seen the way he looked at you, and I know the nonverbal language, so no tricks with me, I'm hard to dupe. He could say what he wanted, his body language was telling just the opposite: it shouted loud and clear his affection for you. I have long scrutinized his features in search for the same symptoms: I have never found them. Except for the day I met him with you.” 

Rose wished to intervene and say something, anything but the elder woman didn't let her.

“No, don't worry, I'm over it. I have got a life, a very interesting job, a wonderful son, and I have stopped waiting for him a long time ago. But it needed to be said, I needed to tell him the impact of his actions, that actions have consequences and he needed to take responsibility for his own.”

 

♂♀ 

 

The buzz of the alarm clock woke Rose from a dreamless sleep; a sleep without nightmares to be precise, without the TARDIS characteristic grinding sound and without a pervasive absence which haunted her nights and her days.

Rose jumped out of bed and walked to the bathroom. It had become the best moment of her day: getting ready to begin a brand new day. She was no longer a traveller in time and space with the man —the alien— she loved. The alien who, however, was unable to open up to her about his true feelings: were they friendship, love, or even indifference. She had a present on Earth, she was a more mature and fulfilled woman. And the past belonged to the past.

At the time Rose had met the Doctor, she was nineteen, she was just a shopgirl without her A-Levels, but she had also a taste for adventure and challenge. She was brave, clever, and above all she had the aspiration to change her life, and make a sense of it. At present she had her A-levels, worked for Torchwood as field agent (with a whole team under her orders, no less), and had a flat all for herself in a nice area, not to mention a socially fulfilling life. And there was Sean.

Rose had met the young man at the pub —a friend of a friend of a friend. Sean, since they had met, never missed one evening there (just in case, or because she was present). His humor, his kindness, the blatant admiration he had for her (he was literally 'head over heels', as all theirs friends affirmed), had eventually won her. 

To be honest, he won the only portion of her heart which didn't belong to the Doctor; that piece of her heart, still in pieces, was sealed somewhere deep down. Sean seemed to cope with only a half heart. He claimed that he loved her for two, and that it was more than enough for him.

Actually, he had been adamant in his determination, despite her repeated refusal, to make himself a place in her heart with his gentleness, thoughtfulness and caring gestures. In short: he was the sweetest and kindest person she had ever met. Eventually, after months and months of more or less discreet courting, he succeeded. 

Rose couldn't help but feel guilty, but accepted nonetheless. She felt so alone, and he was there, offering her, on a silver plate, the very thing the _other_ had never offered her.

 

The Doctor would have contemptuously labelled the young man as a 'stupid ape', another 'pretty boy' she trailed in her wake. At least _this_ boyfriend hadn't been, eagerly, drilled a hole in his forehead. She still had creeps any time she thought about Adam Mitchell. 

Sean, was blatantly interested in settling down with her, and start a family. So, he pushed her in this direction; but not in a very subtle way though. Rose didn't feel ready to jump head first into a settled life. So, even if she loved him (in her own way), she pulled a little on the brake. Perhaps it was also because of her hopes, hard to die and totally preposterous, that _he_ , someday, would resurface.

Even though she was, more or less, fulfilled through her job, her friends and Sean, part of her heart stayed empty and broken. There was a part of her which still took the Doctor as a model for each important event of her life. She wondered more often than not, what he would have thought of her. If he would have been proud of her accomplishments. If he only remembered her, or ever pronounced her name —out loud, or in his hearts. Knowing him, she suspected that her name would never cross the fence of his lips. She remembered too well Sarah Jane's fate. She, Rose, wasn't special to him after all, just another travelling companion. One among dozens. The latest on a long line. Another one he had carelessly abandoned. 

Despite the nostalgia, which colored her memories and her questionings, she hadn't forgiven the Doctor and had still a burning desire to reduce him to mincemeat. Yet she still loved and missed him...

Each time she thought about him, with a little too much tenderness, she imagined, as self-defence mechanism, the use she could make of her Anti-Alien arsenal (at her disposal thanks to Torchwood), on the very same Alien. She had way too often to scold herself for forgetting that the moron had quite simply dropped her without a single word. Like the serial dropper he was. But, against her own will, a side of herself wished —more than anything— to throw herself into his arms and just forgive him. 

 

Finally, shaking herself from her meditation, Rose went to get ready for her work.

 

A noise —she had thought she would never ever hear again— so familiar and so, so loved froze her, in full motion, hair brush in hand.


	3. Ghost from the past

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This story means a lot to me. I've started writing my first draft, as catharsis, one year ago. One year to the day, to be precise.
> 
> I didn't intend to translate it, even less post it. But it has a story and a life on its own, and it's pretty stubborn. So, I've translated it.
> 
> Here I am posting the result of my toil. I hope you'll enjoy it.

The Doctor, weary step and haunted look, entered the TARDIS, leaned against the very first coral strut, and living image of despair, let himself fall into a seated position, knees to his chest, on the grated floor.

He was exhausted; worse even, for he was drained of the joyous energy that usually accompanied him since he had met Rose. Thus, the rebirth of hope. He ran tiredly his shaking hands over his face, then remained motionless, staring expressionless into nothing. He knew that he had made the right decision. But for Rassilon's pants, it hurt; so much more than he had expected.

The TARDIS emitted a half-comforting, half-sorrowful hum sharing his pain but wishing in the meantime strengthen and reassure her thief. The Time ship too loved the Doctor's favourite companion, and would have done anything to help him have his (their) pink and yellow girl back. She missed so very much Rose and their special connection.

The Doctor remained in the same position until he almost lost track of time, then stood and started the dematerialization procedure, sending the TARDIS in the Vortex, and far away from the Powell Estate. His movements were the picture of the lack of enthusiasm.

 

♂♀

 

Despite several months spent seeking oblivion and expiation, all he could do was think of Rose. He had even thrown himself into the craziest and most dangerous adventures he could think about, just to forget his pain. Alas, he always came through unscathed.

Unfortunately his only accomplishments had been a few more almost-suicidal experiences, some more menaces neutralised, and Martha's broken heart (plus a few others in his wake). Despite himself, it's true, but he felt, nonetheless, responsible. 

At present he was ready, and eager, to do anything to regain Rose. Even disregarding the dangers; sod the wisdom, sod the prophecy of the beast, sod the Time Lords' rules. He wanted Rose back. Full stop. He would have done everything in his power to protect the woman he loved and who should've never left his sides. The woman, he had known it with certainty for some time, who loved him in return. His hearts began to beat faster at the thought itself: Rose _loved_ him.

It was ironic though, to think that just when he had been ready to take the plunge with her, the beast had casted on them the sword of Damocles of a cursed fate. For the first time since he had met her, he hadn't feared her rejection nor an inevitable future without her, but, then, there had been Krop Tor and everything had turned sour.

He could easily recall his certitude of Rose's rejection, which he had harbored in his ninth incarnation. Who would have wanted a several century old, genocidal soldier haunted by his own people's ghosts? The very people he had, himself, exterminated?

Who would want a man —no, an alien to her— who wore an old, daft face like his? Rose, who liked pretty boys? Not a chance.

How to think, hope, or even be allowed to indulge in the yearning that her gaze would linger on his features sporting a very unorthodox beauty?

His fears and insecurities had nailed him on the spot; therefore, he had allowed himself to worship Rose only from the distance, and risked little sidelong glances when he was sure that she wasn't looking. Not to mention all the times he had been painfully jealous when a pretty boy approached her (which, alas, happened way too often for his taste). Thus, he had hidden his silent suffering behind fake scornful airs; which, of course, fooled no one, in particular Jack. But that was another story. Moreover, he wasn't in the mood to think about him for the moment.

He had been fairly certain that his love was hopeless. Until the moment —fatal and blessed at the same time— which brought with it an incredible and wondrous revelation: Rose, altruistic, had attempted, willingly, to sacrifice her life to save his, giving him the most beautiful declaration of love ever. As a goddess bathed in gold light, she had called him ' _my_ Doctor', and had saved his life with a simple gesture. The same as by her mere presence on the TARDIS, by his sides, she had saved his sanity.

At that time, still broken and carrying the entire burden of guilt, he would have neither imagined nor hoped to be able to arouse a love which, he was sure, he didn't deserve. Then, in the same gift of love to the other, the same specular act, he had, willingly, given his life to save Rose's. 

Poetic and definitive.

His tenth regeneration was certainly accompanied by renewed hopes and new opportunities, but also by revived doubts. He was undoubtedly younger (in appearance at least), more attractive (if he could say so himself) and more human than ever, but would that be enough to win (back) her heart? It was the eternal revival of his doubts and insecurities.

But...

If he could give credence to her reaction learning about the existence of Sarah Jane (she had been jealous), plus the deep pain she had failed to hide fully after the unfortunate case of Madame de Pompadour, then all hopes were permitted. Even if he had behaved like a true troglodyte and a perfect idiot. 

At that time, he had been desperately trying to struggle not to throw himself headlong into the most perilous adventure of his lives. The adventure which might (would) eventually break his hearts. As a result he had just risked to bodge everything up with Rose. Miraculously, and even though he didn't deserve it, she had forgiven him. But he was well aware that she had been very close to _not_ forgive him at all.

In the end _he had_ bodged everything up with her.

 

Just when everything seemed possible with her, when he was, finally, determined to admit aloud his not very platonic nor quite 'friend like' feelings for her, there had been Krop Tor: an impossible planet stubbornly and desperately clinging to a voracious black hole which swallowed up everything orbited all around. There had been the entity, lurking in the dark, who would destroy any hope, any happy ending to send them be devoured in the same black hole of despair and damnation.

 

The Doctor, in order to shook away his dark thoughts, tried to imagine Rose meeting face to face the dandy who he had been in his eighth regeneration, or the other 'pretty boy' he had been in his fifth. Finally, that snatched a smile from his lips. To be sure she would have liked them: more carefree, lighter, more playful and —for one of them at least— an inveterate charmer. No no no, there he was taking in a very bad path. The one which wasn't going to put balm on his 'just a tad jealous' nature. Especially with regard to his past selves. 

This was the state in which she had put him: a Time Lord, the last of the Time Lords, an almost omnipotent being, practically immortal —if he wouldn't continue to put by himself the head on the chopping block— turning lovesick, jealous of himself, and desperate to have her back. They would have been delighted on Gallifrey, for sure. Not that he had ever been the sort of man to follow any rules or diktat whatsoever, but anyway...

The Doctor was unwavering in his intent: he would go to see her, he would try to obtain her forgiveness, and (if he was very, very lucky) he would bring her back home, on the TARDIS. Where she belonged and always will.

 

♂♀

 

The TARDIS characteristic sound had frozen Rose, hair brush still in her hand; dropping it unceremoniously, she rushed out, and run as fast as she could towards the source of the beloved sound. What else than her beloved time ship could make that beautiful, grinding sound? So, she ran towards the TARDIS, towards her just as much loved than hated driver. Towards the Doctor. 

She arrived where the TARDIS had materialized while the Doctor opened the door to get out. Both stopped dead at the sight of the other. Rose turning pale, the Doctor blushing slightly.

They stared at each other for what seemed aeons, each taking in the other's features; the Doctor catalogued in an instant each slight change in Rose's beautiful features, and loving-hating at the same time what he saw in them. She was more blossomed than ever, more mature and it hadn't been _him_ who had brought that on her face. As for Rose, she couldn't help but checking on his freckled face that he really hadn't regenerated, that it was really and truly _him_.

“Rose Tyler, you look astonishing,” he said the very first thing he could think of while giving her a beaming smile.

Suddenly she was literally livid and thunderstruck by his aplomb. For an endless moment she felt as if she had been frozen on the spot. Then, suddenly, time was back to normal again, and she recovered enough composure to react. 

“Three years Doctor, you've disappeared during three long years without giving any evidence of life whatsoever. I didn't know if you were alive or dead, if you had regenerated or whatnot. If you were held captive, or had exploded with a planet hundreds of thousands light-years away. And all you have to say is that I look healthy?” Fury, at present, turned Rose increasingly pale, she was feeling quite close to implosion, and ready to let rip at him.

The Doctor seemed increasingly sheepish and opened and closed his mouth but no sound came out. So much for playing the nonchalant or dreaming of a proper reunion. He was literally shredded. Cooked burned. Dead.

“You took French leave, leaving me behind without a warning, without a single word, nothing at all. After promising that— I've been waiting for an explanation for three years. For years, Doctor, I've been worrying sick about you, wondering what had become of you, if you were alive, what the hell I could have done for you to leave like a thief. No, you know what, Doctor? Actually, I don't care at all. I am done with you. It's over. I've rebuilt my life.” Her voice, suddenly deceptively calm and measured, was much more frightening than if she had screamed at him. She took a few needed seconds to recover her breath. 

The Doctor seemed frozen, still in shock by her reaction; he waited eyes narrowed, and for once speechless, for her to continue her tirade.

“I'm here just because I wanted to get a few things back, some memories of _him_ , of our trips together, memories of someone who wouldn't have done this to me. No, scratch that, he _did_ this to me!” Rose took a deep breath to recover her calm, then continued, “I'll enter, then get out of your bloody blue box for the very last time, and I'll return to my real life, to my true family—“

It was what made the Doctor lose his temper: his jealousy and frustration speaking for him. He took two steps forward, his posture exuding a barely controlled fury. 

Rose stepped back. 

He advanced again. 

Rose stepped further back until she found herself pinned against a wall, but never flinched nor flickered. 

“Your _real_ life? Your _true_ family? Another one of your _fops_? Sean, for instance? Mmm?” The Doctor knew very well that he was being unfair, but the green-eyed monster deprived him of all control over his mouth. He knew that he had no right at all to blame her for moving on. Least of all after departing surreptitiously without any explanation. Certainly not after having allowed himself to pry into her privacy, and learned —to his great dismay and alarm— the existence of the pretty boy in question.

After a few moments, he had recovered as much composure as he could. “I'm here to apologize, to explain why I have acted like this, I wanted you to understand that I had no choice. I'm here to beg you to travel with me again.” His posture clearly indicating that he was torn between his despair to let her understand without saying too much, and his anger to have to say more than he was willing to say.

Rose had a flash of déjà-vu, reliving certain conversation exiting a chip shop, and the almost identical expression on his handsome features. “Are you kidding?” Rose hissed, “and now you _certainly_ have got this choice, Doctor?” 

The sarcasm and rage emanating in waves from her reached his hearts as trenchant as glass, and made him recoil.

“I'm serious Rose. I want to travel with you, as long as you want,” he pleaded.

“No, Doctor. I won't travel with you again, it's over. I'm done.” Rose spun on her heel and took a few steps towards home. 

The Doctor, just like a injured, but still menacing dog, emitted a growl, and rushed in pursuit. He grabbed her forearm, with enough force to stop her but delicately enough not to harm her, turned her to anchor his look in Rose's eyes, and leaning towards her he whispered hoarsely against her lips, “I had never wanted it to turn out like this,” before descending his lips on Rose's.


	4. Plan, action, and reaction.

Back to the TARDIS, the Doctor, unable to refrain a wistful smile, rubbed his lips with trembling fingertips. They still tingled under the sensation of her full and soft lips under his. He could still keenly feel her warmth, her morning tea breath, her body vibrating from life and... rage... as well as, deep down, her longing; so, despite everything, despite herself, she still wanted him. Could he still hope? Again, he smiled gloomily, his hearts tinged with melancholy: nothing was really lost... or was it?

Yet it had lasted only a few moments. All too soon he had to mourn the contact between them: Rose had immediately stiffened, and, panting, had pushed him forcefully away from her, eyes sparkling with fury. Without a word, without even a gaze, she had turned on her heels and ran away from him.

The Doctor hadn't had the strength to follow her, too dazed to do anything but stare at the distance increasingly growing she was putting between them. Too bewildered at his own audacity, and too saddened by the implications of her metaphor.

 

Several months later he recalled, ceaselessly, the whole scene taking place in slow motion. How to fix his blunder? Had he, for good, bodged up everything? Had he, once and for all, lost Rose?

Months and months spent endlessly reliving her rejection. Months and months closing himself up like a sea urchin, and descending, once again, in his inner hell. Just like after the Time War, and/or the days without Rose. The respite —and love— she had offered him by her mere presence, was well and truly over, his demons were catching him up.

During all those endless months, he had sought, once again, oblivion, punishment, and redemption, in virtually suicidal adventures; grumbling, at the same time, against the injustice of his fate. 

For months (years?), he had been more distant and unattainable than ever with the ephemeral companions he picked up, now and then, in Time and Space, as opportunities and fantasies hit him. None had the remotest resemblance to Rose, both in appearance and in spirit. He carefully made sure of this. Yet, he couldn't stop thinking about her, everything reminded him of her, everything spoke about her. It still hurt like hell.

Yesteryear, he had called himself 'rude and not ginger'. He was still not ginger; henceforth, he fully deserved the epithet of 'unpleasant', if not the most accurate one of misanthrope. In fact,  
he was very careful that none of his companions became attached, by making himself, literally as well as figuratively, quite unattainable. 

The experience with the poor Martha was still making him feel guilty. Indeed, he had learned the hard way, that he had to protect his companions from his influence. And not only his influence, to be honest. So, once an adventure was over, he would drop, without a word, the presently unfortunate companion in the middle of the Console Room, and would hide in the depths of the TARDIS, going missing for hours or even days.

 

♂♀

 

“You look awful Doc.”

“Thanks Jack, that's precisely what I needed to hear right now.” The Doctor made a disgusted grimace tapping his nervous fingers on a yet untouched glass of hypervodka.

“Have you, lately, seen yourself in a mirror?

“I have lost her.” The Doctor announced bluntly.

“I know,” acknowledged, lapidary, the former captain. 

“What?” The Doctor was literally thunderstruck.

“I'm Torchwood, and I used to be a very close friend, remember? I know everything, especially about Rose and the reason why she's earthbound, and doesn't gallivant through time and space with you any longer.” 

The Doctor hadn't an appropriate answer to that, and he was well aware of his utter responsibility in Rose being stranded on earth.

“I'm serious Doc. You should go to see her. Talk to her, get her back, and do with her a lot of make up sex.”

“Stop it will you?” 

“Still, you should try.”

The Doctor sighed wearily, “she doesn't want me. She doesn't even want to see me. Last time I tried, it didn't end well.” 

“So you've tried, after all,” Jack pondered aloud.

The Doctor nodded. “Rose... she has sent me packing. I've told you, she doesn't care about me.”

“Are you sure? She'd never seemed not to care, if you ask me. Even when you had your daft old face. Never could understand why, however.” Jack addressed the Doctor a wink, trying to relax the atmosphere.

The Doctor made as if to smile but his eyes belied it, and did not answer.

“Don't you want her back? Don't you want to fight for her? What happened to: 'she is worth fighting for'?”

“She doesn't want me, and I don't deserve her.” Repeated, obstinately, the Time Lord.

“Tough. You're made for each other Doc. I know it, she knows it, and you know it too. Although, as a real idiot and a coward on top of it, if you allow me to tell you that openly, you've denied it way too long. You're my best friends, I've seen the two of you interact, and if I can recognize something, it's love. I'm sort of an expert!”

The Doctor only shook his head dejectedly. 

“Do it Doc. And the sooner, the better. Otherwise you'll lose her to her boyfriend: she'll marry him, and have a whole brood of children who won't look like you. Is this _your_ wish?”

“Maybe it's for the best!” His voice had hardened, but his eyes had saddened belying his words.

“Do you really wish _this_ for _you_? For Rose? She's not made for an everyday life, she's meant for so much more. With _you_. The stuff of legends, as it should be.”

“So, what do I do?” the Doctor asked wearily.

“Let's think about it thoroughly, we'll find something. I'm very good at it, believe me!”. Jack made a small gesture to the waiter, while he continued, “it's on me, you look like one who'd make a good use of it... and so do I!”

 

♂♀ 

 

The Doctor stood, resolute posture, in the middle of the Console Room, his mind was taking several directions at the same time. Each of them with an identical purpose: approach Rose, obtain Rose's forgiveness, get Rose back on the TARDIS, win Rose's heart back, mark her as his —as much as he was hers. He had been hers since that day, so long ago, when he had taken her hand and said, “run!” Even if he had refused to acknowledge the truth, at least aloud, way too long.

Everything in him was reciting Rose-Rose-Rose as a Mantra. His hearts beated to the rhythm of her name. He wanted her back, no matter the cost.

To make this happen he needed a plan of action; a very good one. The more assets on his side, the better. He had to find a way to approach Rose without seeing her do a runner as soon as she would see him.

Then there was the issue of _when_ in her Timeline. The more he thought about it, the more he was sure he ought to give her a few months for her rage had enough time to drop a few notches. More than a few even, if their last encounter was a cue.

Should he appear before her as a 'contrite Doctor', or should he give himself the assets to approach her as a human, thus not responsible for the Doctor's behaviour? For sure there was also the eventuality that she wouldn't want to talk to him at all. Because of the 'likeness' which he would display with a certain Time Lord moron, that is.

Should he disguise his appearance through the perception filter? A random bloke created out of thin air, or a past incarnation? Which one? His fifth self? His eighth? Which appearance would please her the most?

Should he risk any Time Lords' established law, and be back in Rose's life seconds after he had acted the decision to abandon her? Even if that meant to lock her in the TARDIS in order to protect her from the inevitable aftermaths? Well, when he spoke of the TARDIS, he would rather his bedroom. The better in his arms, the best in his arms _and_ his bed. And never ever let her go.

Anyway, whatever he would chose, knowing Rose, she would be absolutely livid to have been deceived, and would never ever forgive him. The mere thought made him shudder... Oh, he was dead and buried!

But... 

It was either daring, or it was nothing. The jig was up. 

 

♂♀

 

After considering all the available choices and their potential risks and aftermaths, the Doctor drew up a plan of action. His hair defied at present any law of gravity ever established from his frantically plowing it. 

He would be 'human'. No Chameleon Arch, however. He had already gone through the experience, thank-you very much, and he had no desire at all to endanger his mission. 

Now that he had a plan, he felt revived, he could hope and, above all, he was going to see Rose again. His moodiness, finally, forgotten.

As for the housing, no worries, he would 'park' his TARDIS in the flat. Same building, and floor, if he was very lucky, as Rose, obviously. While there he could act the next door dashing, and sweet neighbour. To be safe, he would put his ship off synchrony. Just in case he would succeed in inviting Rose for... a tea. He sighed, if only...

Ah! He could already see the scenario: he would meet her, now and then, _by coincidence_ , in the shops of the neighbourhood. The Doctor, had already, discreetly, studied Rose's habits, and had established a list of Rose's preferred shops. For sure he felt sort of a stalker, but as Machiavelli once said, “the end justifies the means!” but then... 

Needless to say, the nearer Tesco was going to be the first prominent place. Nothing better than to pose as the newcomer totally lost with his shopping list. Next, the bank, the post office, the library and, of course, some well-chosen exhibits. Even though, on those occasions, she might be accompanied by the stupid ape who served her as her boyfriend. He was not sure of being able to master his reactions face such an —inacceptable— eventuality. She was his and his alone! He might simply catch the idiot in question, and throw him, unceremoniously, in the first available red dwarf, and good riddance!

Now the details concerning his _modest_ person. He couldn't wear a suit, and certainly not a pinstriped one. If Rose's looks glued on his bum —when she thought he couldn't see— were an indication whatsoever, then _tight_ jeans would do nicely.

Catchphrases such as 'Fantastic' or 'Brilliant' were to be banned either. _That_ would put her on mauve alert, and would scare her off as fast as possible. 

There remained the problem of his hearts but, knowing himself, he would improvise the appropriate time. If necessary, he could always stop the right one for a short amount of time. If only he succeeded in approaching her _that_ near, that is.

Bollocks, he hadn't thought about an alias or a job. Both hands in his hair the Doctor was thinking at full speed while pacing back and forth in the Console Room. 

Nibbling a branch of his glasses, sombre expression on his features, he dismissed various options which came to his mind. Even though he should avoid all the alias known by Rose, he wouldn't, however, give up 'John', but 'Smith' was out of the question.

Professor of history would be nice, although it could be a give away, but who else knew history better than him? He had some experience with the job, and had even actively participated in the Trojan War, the Boston Tea Party... He had met Dickens, Queen Elizabeth, Madame de Pomp— He made a face, and went to find himself a disguise.

 

♂♀

 

John Davidson, Scot, a bit over thirty (more or less, in human terms at least), looked at himself in the mirror with a critical eye: small metal-rimmed glasses gave him a serious look dimmed by his jeans, and a deep blue sailor's jumper.

The Doctor spun on himself to have an overall view, and examined closely his face which was at present wearing a beard, a real one, no less! His hair was in a disciplined and sobre hairstyle and, to his great horror, flattened. His fringe, once artistically going in all directions, laid wisely on the right side of his face. 

With one last look in the mirror to check the final result, he said to himself that his new look would let the pill of his —more than uncanny— resemblance to the Time Lord, pass a little better. His voice, however, might betray him. Hence it was mandatory to perfect his disguise with a Scottish accent, and lower down the natural timbre of his voice.

The Doctor, satisfied (not bad, not bad at all, if he could say so himself), settled the final details of his plan, then exited the TARDIS, and sighing pointed his Sonic Screwdriver towards his ship and set her out of sync to make her undetectable. The die was cast.

According to his estimates, within minutes he should bump into Rose at the nearest Tesco where she usually did her shopping. Although it was excessively dangerous, he had skipped ahead (and then come back) to make sure of her presence... split-second timing.

 

He wondered what had possessed him to challenge, with such contempt, the Time Lords' laws just to have a chance to talk with the love of his lives, and win back her affection. The answer was obvious: she was worth it, she was worth the whole universe. Sod everything else which wasn't Rose.

Armed with a list of essential goods to be acquired, he waited —not far but hidden, to see Rose entering the store, then entered in his turn not yet set on how to approach her.

Suddenly, his hearts stopped beating. She was there and was, of course, radiant. He took a few minutes to admire her from afar, eyes slightly misty from memories of a happy and carefree past. It seemed so far away now, almost belonging to a dream. He shook himself out of his reverie and went into action, relying on his instinct, but crossing, nevertheless his fingers.

 

♂♀

 

Rose had spent her day submerged in paperwork, she felt stiff, moody and, what took the biscuit, Sean had asked her, once again, to marry him. She had, once again, juggled with her answer. In addition, throughout the day, she had had in the back of her head a strange tingle which was accompanied by an odd sensation in the pit of her stomach. Her instinct, sharpened by her work, and her travels with the Doctor, was on the alert: something was coming.

She had wished to allow herself a peaceful evening with, for once, a ready meal she would munch, accompanied by a glass of wine, watching a film. Rose entered Tesco and walked briskly towards the wine section, when a melodious voice with a Scottish accent stopped her.

“I beg your pardon Miss, I'm new in the area and a bit lost, could you kindly help me find my way through the shelves?”

Rose turned around, her all ready smile —and answer— dying on her lips, and hiccupped. “Oh my... You!” Before fleeing at full speed.


	5. Chance and Opportunities

The Doctor had expected a similar reaction, and although a bit disappointed, he didn't feel despondent: this was just his first move, and he had all the time to place his pawns. At least he hoped so. 

The first part of his plan had worked (ish), now the next phase: other encounters.

He finished his small errands, and went back, at a leisurely pace, to the flat which he had let a few days prior. Thanks to a bit of Jiggery-Pokery, it was located on the same floor as Rose's.

Finally on the TARDIS, and in the Time Vortex, he changed back into his pinstriped suit. The hardest would be to distract his mind from her. So he started making minor repairs under the Console, but he had no stomach for it.

For added safety, he would wait a couple of days before 'coming across' her again. Well, a few days seen from Rose's point of view, of course. As for him, impatient as he was, he would just skip said days. 

After pondering a bit, he had opted for the public library. It would be a fairly neutral location; private enough not to be distracted by all kinds of noises, and public enough not to scare her of being approached, _again_. Moreover, there would be enough people to discourage her from running away again.

He equipped himself with the book he had taken care of borrowing, and walked to the local public library. His timing was perfect (Time Lord, after all): Rose had been there for half an hour, so he entered in his turn, and walked with an assured pace towards the table where she consulted a book. Hearts pounding wildly —his Scottish accent well in place, and apologetic smile on his lips— he spoke to her. “Hello. It's you I scared to death a few days ago, isn't it? I'm glad to have the occasion to apologise. I should have shown myself before talking to you so abruptly.”

Rose raised her gaze from her book; her eyes goggled, and her jaw dropped. She soon mastered her features enough and muttered, “it was nothing. You just took me by surprise,” while she turned her attention back to her book. 

The Doctor wasn't discouraged by her evident lack of enthusiasm, instead took the opportunity to extend his hand, and introduce himself —or more accurately, his alter ego. “John Davidson, teaching fellow, quite new in the neighbourhood, and the area as you may notice by my accent.”

Rose hesitated one moment, then accepted his outstretched hand. “Rose. Rose Tyler, three years old in the neighbourhood, born and bred in London,” she replied, seemingly in autopilot, looking anywhere but in his direction. Her smile™ absent from her lips.

With sparkling eyes, and his most disarming smile, the Doctor played his card: “Nice to meet you Rose. Do you know that you are my first acquaintance here around?”

Rose, looking as she was lying on a bed of thorns, mumbled something unintelligible. 

He pretended not to notice but, inside, he was exultant. “So, Rose Tyler, I'm going to do my duty, like the honest citizen who I am, and give back what I borrowed. I hope to meet you again.” On a big smile and a farewell wave, the Doctor, 'John', walked away.

 

Rose was completely in shock, her head was spinning. She didn't know what to think. If she could think straight, that is. The Doctor was there. Or maybe not. It couldn't be! Or could it? If it wasn't _him_ then... This bloke didn't have the right to be _his_ carbon copy. 

Why here? Why her? But if it was _him_ , why didn't he seem to recognize her? Was he suffering from amnesia? Was he doing this on purpose? And what if this John-something was just who he claimed to be? A simple bloke, looking quite normal, not one thousand words per minute, open gaze and slightly shy.

The only explanation left was the one of a human twin. Was it only credible? Was it as unlikely as it appeared? Perhaps _she_ was the one who had seen more than a superficial resemblance. She had spoken to him only few instants after all. Tall, thin, brown eyes, on their thirties weren't lacking in London. Fine, perhaps she had looked enough to notice a few details. 

She was dizzy from trying to unravel this uncanny mystery. That said, she had wondered, a few times (fine, not only a few), what would the Doctor look like with a beard, or cladded in tight jeans... well, now she had the answer: he would be... not bad at all! Not that he wasn't, already, utterly gorgeous without. The beard, that is. She sighed and tried to recompose herself.

 

♂♀

 

The Doctor was delighted with their encounter, even though it was fairly painful to be so close to her and not being allowed to touch her, not being allowed to flirt, aimlessly and with lightness, as it was their custom before. It was painful to have no right to look at her in the eyes, and convey what, so far, he hadn't been able to say to her. Coward, any day. It was fairly ironic to think that when he could, he hadn't been able to open up to her, and now that he was ready to declare her his feelings, he had no more the right to. At least, he had seen her, and had managed to talk to her. And, this time, she hadn't left.

The following time he would slip into the conversation that he felt a little lost, alone as he was, in a City like London, and would ask her for the best addresses in the neighbourhood. Then, to thank her (well, whatever), he would invite her in a chip shop. A kind of third first date. 

The Doctor had cast a small glance at their Timelines, but everything was still confused. Everything was in the range of _possible_ , their Timelines still in flux. For the first time, in years, he cherished the hope that everything would end well. Maybe, hopefully so.

 

Again, the Doctor had made a few days hop, and managed to bump into her, at the door of her (their) building. Feigning the greatest surprise to see her there, he hastened to welcome her. “Hi Rose, your name is Rose, isn't it? Do you live here, by any chance? I'm John, by the way, do you remember me? We have met at the public library a few days ago.” The Doctor, faking nonchalance, leaned against the door jamb, ankles crossed.

“Hi John. Yes, I remember you. Indeed, my name is Rose. And yes, I live here.” This time she hadn't been taken by surprise and could welcome him politely.

“Ah! But it's brilliant! So do I. I also live here, that is. I was hoping to come across you at Tesco or the library. As I have told you, I'm still pretty new in the area, and I'd like to ask for your favorite addresses for shopping and, who knows, dare to invite you to a chip shop. To thank you and get better acquainted, as neighbour, that is. Well, if you agree.” 

The Doctor, moved, noticed that Rose hadn't lost her habit of playing with her earrings when she was embarrassed, or feeling shy, as she was, incessantly, fiddling with her loops.

Embarrassed indeed.

“John, I don't think it would be a good idea to invite me in a chip shop. I mean, oh, I express myself poorly, it isn't the chip shop in itself, because I really do love chips, but... Well, I've got a life full of obligations, and so little time. Furthermore I have a boyfriend.”

“Is he the jealous kind? You can't have, or go out with male acquaintances? Not even a cuppa with a neighbour?” he asked, almost flirting.

“It's me that would rather not. It's for the better, believe me.”

“Oh. Have I done something wrong?” His features suddenly serious.

Rose sighed, “I'm sorry if I seem rude to you, but I really prefer not to. It has nothing to do with you. But I've got my reasons, please do me the honour to respect them.”

His face fell, and Rose felt compelled to soften her words, and tell him a bit more

“Sorry for that, but you strongly remind me of someone I once knew, someone with whom it didn't finished quite well and—” Rose left the sentence unfinished, not wishing to tell a stranger too much. And especially not one who resembled as two peas in a pod to certain Time Lord she had been acquainted with.

“I'm sorry, I just wanted a mate. I didn't mean to make you feel harassed.” 

“It's fine, but let's drop it, would you mind?” She walked away and headed towards the lift, oblivious of his despondent gaze riveted on her back.

 

♂♀

 

The Doctor was beginning to despair in succeeding in his enterprise; every following encounters had been just as unsuccessful. He had crossed paths with her for weeks, and each time he had managed to extirpate only a few words, barely polite, from Rose. 

It made him sick to be treated as a complete stranger after having been so close to each other (as the Doctor, of course, but that was beside the point). At present, after everything they had been one for the other, they were worse than strangers. If strangers had a chance to become acquainted, they would never have this opportunity, and it was all his own fault. 

What had he done? How was he going to fix this mess? Would 'John' have the chance to fix the damage done by the Doctor? What could he do to make her agree to see him? If only just as a friend? At least _that_ would be a beginning.

He wanted to prove her that he had changed, that he was able to open up to her; completely and without reservation. He needed that Rose agreed to be loved by him. She had to know that he loved her, that he always had, and that he was able, at present, to tell her. Even though he had admitted it (to himself, of course) only cornered by that bloody Dalek, claiming in front of an audience, and Rose, thank-you very much, the very same thing which all those who had approached them, thought quietly.

True, in the past he had tried to deceive himself into thinking that it was only a ward-to-mentor affection, practically a paternal affection (fine, whatever), but that was the past. Now he was more than ready to claim it in front of the universe, namely Rose herself. 

Passing feverishly hands in his hair, regaining, in the process, his Doctorish hairstyle, he tried to regain control over himself.

 

♂♀

 

Rose said to herself that she hadn't laughed so much in her life. Not since... _him_ , that is. 

John was making large gestures, unusual in someone like him who was always so measured and calm, almost shy, while he was recounting one of his many misadventures with their upstairs neighbour: a surly, old woman, always foul-mouthed and feared by all the building. True, she was the quintessence of the virago, Rose couldn't prove them wrong, she too tended to avoid said neighbour as much as possible.

He looked so relaxed and lively, that suddenly he appeared much younger than his thirty-five (and some?) years old. A big, almost Doctorish, smile enlightened the features of his handsome face, usually imbued with a sobre gravity.

Suddenly, Rose found futile the reasons for her refusal to get better acquainted with him, because he was... charming. Gorgeous. Very funny, despite his grave and composed look. He was helpful, thoughtful, friendly, but not gluey (which was a change from Sean). And she needed to prove herself that she was well and truly over the Doctor's parenthesis. Was she, though?

If he hadn't looked too much like a certain Time Lord, who still occupied an important space in her heart and her thoughts, she would have felt in danger. The truth was that she was attracted to him, and it frightened her to death. In his own way, he had so much in common with the Doctor, not only in his physical appearance, excepted for his beard obviously, while, nevertheless, being very different. 

Sighing, she shook her head to chase away her thoughts, and focused again her attention on the man standing in front of her.

“Finally, I found myself in her kitchen, in apron, showing her the recipe for the original Scottish pancakes, just to prove her that I'm a pure Scot, as if my accent wasn't enough.” He ended with a big roar of laughter.

The Doctor, heartened by Rose's smiling and relaxed attitude, became bold. “Tell you what? Would you like to taste some? I was going to cook myself a few to accompany a nice cup of tea. What do you say, are you tempted?” 

John's eyes expressed hope and expectation, and she was moved. 

“I don't know, I...” Then, taken by a sudden impulse, she agreed, “yes, actually I'm willing.”

“Then it's settled. See you at my flat in half an hour, you know the number,” he said nonchalant to try to hide the urge to leap for joy.

 

♂♀

 

The Doctor entered the flat practically singing. Yes! This would be the very first time he would share a domestic moment with her since... well, since he had behaved like a complete moron, and had fled like a thief.

He took a moment to savour the prospect of sharing, again, some alone time with her, recalling all those little, blessed moments spent with her over a cup of tea chatting about the latest adventure. The very idea that, within minutes, he was going to put his future with her at stake (if he continued with his faux-pas) terrified him somewhat. At the same time, however, the challenge it contained, gave him a rush of adrenaline and a glimmer of hope. 

 

A small knock on the door brought him out of his reverie. He hurried to welcome her. She had taken time to refresh and change into something more cozy and relaxed. In a word, she was breathtaking. But she was Rose, wasn't she, always, breathtaking?

She handed him a small bag. “Since you prepare the pancakes, I thought I should participate. I have brought a box of tea from my special reserve. I can guarantee that it's excellent. It's my mum's secret recipe, and she's known for cooking the best tea in all the Powell Estate, if not all London.”

He let her in with a beaming smile. “In this case, who am I to argue? Care to help me, dear neighbour?” Without awaiting her answer, he linked his arm with hers, and led them unceremoniously into the kitchen.

 

They worked together in silent and harmonious companionship. This ceremony reminded her so much of the Doctor, that she felt a pang in her heart, except that with him it was a joyful babbling about everything and nothing. The Doctor's, of course, she added to herself.

“So... this is the first time that you are teaching outside of Scotland?” Rose asked to hide her nervousness.

“Oh no. I have travelled here and there. In my youth I've bummed around a lot: I've taught in various countries, done this, seen that... I'm a Travelling Professor!” he said with a contagious laugh. 

Rose couldn't help but laugh with him.

“And what about you, Rose? Always Londoner?” he asked.

“Oh dear, no! I have travelled a lot too. One could easily say that I have seen the world,” Rose laughed.

“On your own? This is a bit dangerous, isn't it? You're very beautiful Rose, if you allow me to acknowledge it, it's too risky to travel alone, anything could happen.” The Doctor couldn't help flirting, and was rewarded by her slight blush. He was absolutely delighted.

She looked away eluding his compliment. “No, there was this— man, this friend, with whom I had been travelling. We travelled together, not that together it was less dangerous, mind you. He was a true magnet for danger!” 

Tongue between her teeth she laughed a little, sounding a little breathless, the Doctor stared at her spellbound, unable to move, not even a muscle, holding his breath.

“Quite the contrary. He, this friend, had a marked tendency to put us in trouble! I've never met someone so jeopardy-friendly.” 

Suddenly she realized that he was gazing her intently, elbows on the table, head in hands, and Rose shuddered. This seemed to break the spell.

“And didn't you like it? I beg your pardon for— if I'm being curious again. But you seem to be definitely settled in London.”

“Oh, but I loved travelling. New— Countries all the time, always new people to meet. A life of adventure, it had been fascinating and exciting.”

“But why have you stopped then? You seem the kind of person who's got itchy feet. Excuse me again I'm an unforgivable nosy.” Honestly, the Doctor wasn't feeling sheepish at all. He wanted to know the flip side. He wanted to know everything she had been through, and see things from her perspective.

Rose darkened. “I stopped because— let's say that... it was, uh, complicated towards the end.”

“Ah, so it was him, perhaps, the bloke whom I look like?” The Doctor couldn't prevent the appearance of the green-eyed monster. It was getting ridiculous, he was jealous of himself, for Rassilon's sake!

“And you? Had you travelled alone?" Rose asked evading the question.

“No, I have almost always travelled accompanied, but the most happy and carefree time was when I was travelling with a friend. She was very precious to me. We were... together. But I have lost her,” he said truthfully. His eyes suddenly veiled with sadness, looking like he was lost millions of light-years away.

It was Rose's turn to feel spellbound. Her gaze was glued to his, and she seemed unable to break the spell, still poised with bated breath, waiting for him to continue.

“Well, anyway, it was my fault.” After a few moments, he recovered his composure, and gave her a half smile. “I don't want to sadden you with my stories. Tell me about your travels.”

Rose felt a wave of sympathy for John, who, apparently, had shared the experience of losing a loved one and, empathetic as she was, wished she could lighten his burden. 

“Oh, I'm sorry.” She held out her hand, and covered John's with hers. She felt him quiver and saw him blush slightly.

This man, so gentle, so sincere and open, so handsome in his fragility, so passionate under his controlled and composed outside, was beginning to fight his way through her heart.

She noticed it.

It was too late.

Oh Hell.


	6. Interlude

The Doctor hadn't abandoned his travels altogether, yet made sure not to allow Rose to forget 'John'; therefore he was back 'home' every evening, at the same hour —from Rose's point of view, of course— to bump into her coming home from work. His progress in his former companion's esteem were, however, too slow for his liking; At this rate he would never succeed. He needed to take drastic steps.

 

Jack, who had demanded to be kept informed, and had requested absolute secrecy on their meetings ( _Rose will kill me, if she learns that I've only talked to you_ ), rocketed the boat and urged him to take the things in hand, once and for all.

 

“You should clear the air, and tell her everything, Doc. If she discovers the truth all by herself, she's gonna kill both of us. She'll be so livid, that she'll find a way to kill an immortal _and_ burn all your regenerations left, with one stone.”

“So, what should I have done?” asked impatiently the Doctor.

“For first, not something so stupid. But what's done is done. Now you must fix this mess. And if she asks: I didn't know, I was against it, I wasn't even there. Even better: I'm already dead.”

“Thanks for your help, Jack.”

“I've grown quite attached to my life. So, what do you plan to do? You'd better think about something that makes sense, this time!”

“I had planned to let her get used to John, then little by little...”

“She's still seeing Sean, Doc! If you don't hurry, you'll let her pass by. And you'll be the only one to blame.” Admonished the former Captain.

“She needs time. If there is something I can grant her, it's time.”

“No, you are in a funk of getting dumped... Yet you don't lack in charm, and beside myself, of course, you're the biggest flirt I've ever met. Don't try to deny it, I've got wind of some rumour...”

“Nonsense! I am who I am, and it's hardly my fault if she believed herself infatuated. Moreover, this has nothing to do with Rose! I have never cheated on her,” interrupted fervently the Doctor.

“Yet she has believed it.” 

“She's wrong.”

“Really? Anyway, you weren't together...together if you see what I mean” 

“Same difference! Maybe she didn't know, but she _was_ , she _is_ , my mate and I was, I am, hers. I have never betrayed my vows to her!”

“Fine, Casanova, what are you planning to do to resolve the situation?” Jack crossed his arms and stared intensely at the Doctor.

“The truth is that I'm totally lost; with her I feel powerless. What I, easily and unwittingly, win with others, I don't succeed, willingly and with effort, with her. Rose seems determined to keep me at arm's length.”

“Who could possibly blame her,” muttered Jack under his breath. 

The Doctor just gave him a very dark look but said nothing.

“Seriously Doc, force the matter, take risks, if you really love her, just go for it. If you don't, someone else will... perhaps even me!”

“Don't you dare!” The Doctor gave Jack a menacing look while pointing his screwdriver at his friend's face..

“Woah. Just kidding, don't go into panic!” Jack arched a brow, and raised both hands to placate the Doctor's ire.

 

The Doctor was feeling more and more despondent. The more women, all species combined, made eyes at him (now even the women in the area joined in, at 'John' expense, to his great despair), the more he felt as a failure not to be able to win the love of the only being who owned his hearts. 

Maybe Jack was right, after all. He had to break the stalemate, and do a move.

 

♂♀

 

“I reckon that your neighbour has developed an infatuation for you: you should deter him. Does he even know that you are taken?” Exclaimed acidly Sean.

“Don't be silly! He's just a neighbour and that's the end of it,” she answered grouchy.

“You seem to spend a bit too much time with him... for a mere good-neighbourly relationship.”

“Sean...” Rose warned.

“Lately you spend much more time with him than with your fiancé,” he complained.

“And if you go on having those stupid fits of jealousy, I'll spend even more time with him. Happy now?

Sean told himself that it would have been wiser to let it go and not indispose Rose any further. Yet he decided that he should keep a close watch on said too friendly (and pain in the neck) neighbour. 

 

♂♀

 

“I can't understand what had possessed Sean, he has never been like that. Last night he has made a jealous tantrum about John.” Rose confided to Sarah Jane.

Sarah Jane took great care not to let her smile break through her lips, and kept a straight face. “Maybe he's right. You seem to appreciate him, and he's rather handsome, I've heard.”

“He's just a neighbour. He's alone in London, and I believe he has no one else left, he's a bit lost. I'm helping him, that's it. You know how I am, I can't let down those in need.”

Sarah Jane had to suppress, again, her smile. “Must be why, indeed. But take heed, Rose, not everyone sees things with an innocent eye; John might take your kindness for something else, and get the wrong idea. As for Sean, you see that he feels threatened. Not to mention what your mother would say.”

“Nonsense!”

Sarah Jane thought it preferable not to insist... which didn't keep her from having her own idea on the matter.

 

Truth must be said, Rose, still perfectly unaware, spoke way too much about her neighbour, to be as much indifferent as she claimed.

 

♂♀

 

“I can't fathom why everybody thinks that John is interested in me,” complained Rose pouring some more vinegar on her chips.

“Maybe because you're glued together as flypaper? Now that I think about it... it remind me the way you were with the Doctor. Both of you, by the bye. Even with the other, the one with big ears.”

“Mum!”

Jackie raised her hand in a soothing gesture. “Fine, but you two seem to get along like pigs in a blanket. You're sure he isn't interested? And you, not even a bit infatuated? What does Sean think about it? It's none of my business of course—”

“Leave Sean out of it! Don't get the wrong idea about John, and leave me alone! We're just friends and that's it!”

“If you say so. I've already heard that somewhere, though,” said Jackie with a meaningful look.

“Mum!”

Jackie laughed heartily, then got into the detailed account of the latest gossips.

 

♂♀

 

The Doctor was determined to do something, anything, to force Rose's hand and clarify their, more than hazy, relationship —ahem friendship. He was fed up with being solely the nice neighbour to her; he wanted more, so much more! He always had.

His hands itched to touch her, he wanted so badly to hug —and hold— her as he used to. He longed to kiss her full and proper, and tell her what she meant to _him_ , the Doctor. Would he have the nerve to do just that? Don't even let her open fully the door and throw himself at Rose kissing her to death? Then give to her mouth-to-mouth resuscitation?

It was —a not so sweet— agony to sit near, but not near enough, to her, and have no right but surreptitiously catch a glimpse of her beautiful profile glimmered by the blueish light of the television.

He swore on oath to change things: no more suffering, no more alone, no more without Rose, and no more lies. Ever.

Never ever again.

Even if he had to spend all his remaining regenerations to win her back.


	7. Questionings and Perils

After several weeks of increasingly frequent _fortuitous_ encounters, they finally ended up seeing each other almost every evening at Rose's or John's flat, to share the events of their days, and munch their dinner together. 

 

That evening, sitting comfortably on Rose's sofa, meal tray on theirs laps, they were chatting quietly about the last film they had watched together.

John seemed worried, lost somewhere else, less high-spirited, and more reserved than usual.

“John, is there something wrong? You seem preoccupied. Do you want to talk about it?” She friendly took his arm through hers, and patted his hand.

“Rose, I—” John, the Doctor, freed his arm gently, and pivoting towards her, put his hand on her shoulder, the back of the other stroking her cheek tenderly. “Rose...thank you, for everything.”

She frowned, her eyes scanning his features. “John, what's wrong? You're scaring me sick. What's the matter?”

“This.” In one fluid motion he bent towards her, and placed his lips on Rose's applying a slight pressure with his parted lips.

Rose froze, completely petrified. The sound of the frantic beating of her heart echoing in her ears. She realised that her eyes had closed on their own volition. Then, as in a dream, she saw herself, in slow motion, put the palms of her hands on John's shoulders, and push him away. Gently but firmly. “No John.”

“I'm sorry Ro— No, actually I'm not sorry at all. I've been wanting to kiss you for months, since I saw you, to be honest, and couldn't find the nerve to do so. You're so beautiful Rose, so sweet, so compassionate, so alive and brave and I—” he sighed and tried to bring his trembling hands to his hair, stopping mid-action and putting them instead on his knees, hastily getting up and heading for the door looking totally panicked: “I—“

"John?"

“I'll go. I'm really sorry. I've bodged everything up and—” He had already half opened the door and turned his back to Rose, not daring to look at her, not wishing to read pity in her beautiful hazel eyes. 

“John, wait. Let's pass some time, then we'll see, all right? I'm not ready to talk about it for the moment, but when I feel ready, if you are willing, we'll talk. I need time to put some order in my mind, and cope with what has happened.” She had stand and made a few step towards him. “Listen, John, I'm sorry. So sorry. But I can't— We'll see, yeah?”

“Yes, right. Sorry. Thank you Rose, goodnight.”

“Goodnight John.”

 

♂♀

 

Rose slumped on the sofa with trembling legs and whirling mind. John had kissed her, not that it had surprised her that much, perhaps everybody was right; he was well and truly attracted to her, more than that even. But... what about her? She was the one who had always been pulling back. She was the one who was chickening out, carefully keeping their friendship under the 'platonic' boundaries. Coward, any day. It was ironic to think that she had acted with John the same way, _he_ had acted with her. Same play, different actors...

“And now what I'm going to do?” She knocked her head a few times on the coffee table. “Why did he have to kiss me? I was happy that we were just friends. Why did he have to complicates things?”

If she were completely honest with herself, she had to admit that she felt more than a friendly attraction to John. She really liked him —a lot— and wondered if, on the long run, 'just friends' would've been enough for her, or if it was even the right epithet. Maybe not... to both her questionings.

Yet for years she had coped with just a platonic friendship with _him_ , and _there_ was the difference, hence the problem, with John: it was blatant that he wanted to push the boundaries with her, as opposed to _you-know-who_. But it would have been like having a relationship with _him_ without being _him_ though. A way to be loved despite _him_. Moreover, despite their differences, John made her think too much about _his_ abandonment. She sighed. Why things had to get so complicated? When things went so pear-shaped?

She knew what she needed right now to clear up her mind: a good cup of tea and her mum.

 

♂♀

 

“You see mum, the fact is that I like him. Honestly, how could I not? He's really nice and funny and sweet... But on the other hand this is precisely why I don't want—”

Jackie wisely avoided to brag something like: 'I told you so'. Instead she said kindly, “listen sweetheart, I think you make complicated what is, in fact, very simple: he likes you, you like him, you've a good time time together, you get along pretty well together... so, what are you waiting for? ”

Rose sighed half exceeded, “I find him fantastic, I really do, he's sweet, kind, and caring, he makes me laugh, he's interested in lots of things... But, you know, he looks too much like _him_ , I don't know if I could disregard—” 

"Sweetheart, he's not _him_ , he might well look like him, as a twin, but he's not the Doctor.” 

Rose winced at the mention of his name. “And what if, one day, he did the same thing? What would I do then? No, I couldn't bear it. I have spent years and years trying to leave all that behind me, and start living again. I had almost succeeded!”

"Almost is not _succeed full stop_. Sweetheart, you know very well that fear doesn't avoid the danger. Perhaps it'll be you, who might, one day, let him down. Do you really think that he's not as scared as you are? But he has taken the risk anyway. He must be so very much in love to have acted like that. Take things as they come, and leave the worries at the door. That deserves at least some thoughts, he deserves that you give him a chance. And you too Miss.” She pointed her finger at her daughter's nose, making Rose's eyes all squinty.

“I don't know. I'll try. I can't promise I'll give a go or something, but at least I'll think about it, and start talking to him again.” She had risen from the sofa, and was heading towards the door, in a hurry to have some alone time to ponder over it all. 

“Talk to him, Rose, be straightforward and completely honest. It's less complicated than you think. I know you can do that!” Jackie hugged her daughter one last time before closing the door.

 

♂♀

 

She had been avoiding him for several days. She knew she was chickening out, but she couldn't help herself for the time being. How long she would be allowed to dodge John, and the issue all together, was another matter.

 

One more time she had returned, hurriedly, to her flat on hearing the sound of a door opening, and was distraught when she heard a knock at hers. It was John, of course it was him, who else? 

“So much for my Avoidance Strategy.” She opened the door with a sigh.

“If the mountain will not come to Muhammad, Muhammad is going to the mountain. Hello Rose, may I come in?” John exclaimed with his brightest smile.

“Listen John, I was going out and—” She was feeling literally cornered, and looked everywhere but at him.

“None of that with me, Rose. If you don't want me, to see me, that is, you must tell me straight outright. 'Fast pay make fast friends' as they said. This isn't because I'm attracted to you, that you must feel compelled to avoid me. I know how to behave, you know. I care about you, first of all as a friend, and I would be very sorry to give our friendship up. So, please, don't shut me out.”

Rose sighed wearily, and made a gesture to invite him in. “Come in, I'll make us a cup of tea.”

John followed her into the kitchen, and handed her a small bag, his smile wider and a tad mischievous. “I've brought banana muffins, I know you love them.”

 

Moments later they had settled on the couch, and were sipping quietly their steaming teas. Both too nervous to talk the first.

After a few moments of an awkward silence, John, suddenly serious, a slight blush on his cheeks, took a deep breath and pleaded, “Rose, please, do not make me pay for someone else's fault. That's not who you are.” He still didn't dared to look at her.

“Sorry John, I really am, but...” Rose took a deep breath and confessed, “I think I owe you the truth. I hope that, once I have told you everything, about him, that is, you will understand my reasons. You will understand why I can't help myself.”

“You don't have to tell me anything, you owe me nothing, it's not your fault if I look like that... man.”

“As I have told you, I have travelled for a few years with this friend. It ended badly, and that's an understatement. We were good friends, more than that: he was my best friend. I was, I reckon, his best friend. The truth is that I was very much in love with him, always have.” 

The Doctor's eyes went goggled at her open revelation, and seemed to be about to say something, but Rose stopped him.

“No, please John, let me continue. So, I loved him, and for a time I believed, I hoped that he felt the same. Moreover, I was convinced that he knew what I felt for him, and that he wasn't bothered by my feelings. But something happened, he changed, so he distanced himself and took good care to make me understand that things had changed too. Not that there had never been anything between us, but we were there for each other, we held hands and it meant the world to me.”

The Doctor had recovered from the wondrous shock of hearing aloud that she —had— loved him, but couldn't help to interrupt her softly: “Rose? Are you sure that he knew? Because when one knows... And how could he not have loved you back? You are the most axtraordinary and beautiful woman I've ever met.”

Rose gave a mirthless laugh, and didn't acknowledged his compliment. “I don't see how he couldn't have known. So, he changed and his message was loud and clear: 'I am not the same as before'; so, I threw my hopes out the window. But I swear that his friendship was enough for me. I was content to just hold his hand, and to know that he cared for me, if only as a friend. I would have gone on living like this for the rest of my life, I promised him forever, after all. It was enough for me, his friendship was enough.” 

“You are braver than I could ever hope to be,” he whispered bitterly, as for himself. 

Rose shook her head. “I'm not brave.”

“Yes, you are! Anyway, are you sure you haven't misunderstood his signals?” he asked in a steadier voice.

“Actions speak louder than words; how could I misinterpret his? What he did to me? One day, we returned to London to pay a short visit to my mum; he just left through the back door, abandoning me there without a word, without even a goodbye or an explanation whatsoever. Three years later, he returned nonchalantly and asked me to forgive him, to return travel with him. He kissed me. I had been dreaming for years that, one day, he would kiss me, but not like this, not to manipulate me. I had, more or less, rebuilt my life without him, what gave him the right to come to destroy everything?”

Tears began to roll down her cheeks, and John took her face in his hands and wiped them with his thumb while uttering gently soothing words. His hearts pounded wildly, and he was putting on test all his strenght not to kiss her, then and there, again. And again, and again...

Rose bent her head on his shoulder, then spoke again. “So I left. I didn't regret it, even if it cost me a lot. You can't imagine how much. But I couldn't— not with someone who would have been with me, travel with me, I mean, out of pity, or because he felt lonely.”

“How can you believe that he would have been with you out of pity or solitude? He must have felt honoured just to hold your hand,” he said fervently.

Rose had a transient smile, and again didn't acknowledged, openly, his compliment. “And then you arrived in my life, so like him though so different, and every time I saw you, I was reliving his abandonment. You were him and not him at the same time, it was so confusing.”

The Doctor's hearts tightened and, without thinking, hugged her tenderly while forcing himself , again, not to kiss each and every tear running down her beautiful face. “Oh Rose, I'm sorry. If I had known how you felt.”

“It's not your fault, John.” 

“Maybe it is.” The Doctor thought he was about to regenerate out of shame and guilt. He was on the verge of confessing everything to her, implore her forgiveness, and kiss her passionately. Alas, he had lost any right to do so.

“No, it isn't! It's not fair that I— If you still want my friendship, I really would like us to be friends,” Rose said with a shy smile.

“Of course that I want your friendship, you know that I do care about you.” He squeezed her even more against his chest.

 

♂♀

 

Back on the TARDIS the Doctor, tired and discouraged, collapsed on the jump seat. Things were getting more and more complicated, and he was at a loss to what to do next.

Meeting frequently Rose, as John, had made him discover another side of the young woman; a side that made her even more special to him. She had become even more dear to his hearts.

Can one fall in love, twice, with the same person? Once as a real person, and the second one as a fictional character? Apparently so, because that was what had happened to him: he had fallen in love with her as 'John' as well. It was getting incongruous.

Was it madness to be jealous of 'John', as the Doctor, for what _he_ couldn't or wouldn't give her? Was it even crazier to be, likewise, jealous of the Doctor for the life of adventure in Time and Space which 'John' couldn't offer her? And, most of all, was it madness being particularly jealous for the Time Lord's 'precedence' in her heart?

 

In this case he was crazy twice: because he was in love twice, and he was jealous twice.

He loved her, either as 'John' and as the Doctor. To admit her his unconditional love was no longer an option, but the only solution to end his torments and perhaps repair the damage. Actually that was what he wanted more than anything. Yes, but... open his heart(s) as 'John' or as the Doctor?

He knew what he _should_ do, but was he ready to take the risk?

He wanted to be loved for who he really was. But might she still? Could she forgive his actions, his betrayal? Would she love him again? He knew for certain that she had still loved the new new Doctor. She had fallen in love with him again. Could she fall in love —again— with the Doctor, after all that had happened between them? Or better said, after the abandonment his tenth incarnation had acted? And worst, after his double betrayal? 

Should he take the chance of letting 'John' talk, and see him be rejected because not enough? What if she accepted? How could the Doctor give her up?

Should the Doctor be the one to take this chance (as foolish as it was), to speak on his behalf? Even if he might (would) be rejected because of his behaviour?

The Doctor told himself that he would rather be rejected because of _who_ he really was, rather than be loved because of who he was _not_. Even if 'John' would've had Rose: as he more than suspected that she was attracted to 'John'. Of course she was, he was _him_.

Jack was right: he really shoud come out to the open, and tell the truth.

The Doctor would speak, ending an existence full of lies, omissions and shams. 'John' would die soon, long live the Doctor. So be it.


	8. Alea Jacta est –  Truth

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I might have, or not, borrowed and paraphrased a line from "Pride and Prejudice" by Jane Austen.  
> Thus far, I haven't read it in its original language (and last time, so long ago); so I'm not sure, but I prefer to warn you.  
> I hope I haven't hurt your feelings. If it's the case, please forgive me.

Rose had spent a fantastic evening with John, which, per se, wasn't as much surprising as she would have thought at first. Quite the opposite, actually.

It had begun as the opposite of a sinecure, and had ended as her most cathartic experience: being allowed to cry her eyes out on a shoulder, which could have been _his_ , in other circumstances, had been, in a way, liberating.

Rose's soul would have weighed as light as a feather, if it hadn't been for the lingering feeling of selfishness in regard to John. She had, finally, opened up to him, releasing the weight of her lies and guilt that burdened her heart; but what about _his_ feelings? She was certain that she must have hurt them, even though he hadn't shown it.

He had been comprehensive and had accepted, without a reproach, a responsibility which was not _his_. Actually, he had been absolutely perfect. Her heart was filled with gratitude and affection for this —gorgeous— man, who seemed to like (love?) her enough to accept, and even support, the weight of her memories and feelings. John, above all, didn't seem wish to delete them; instead, he seemed ready, eager even, to be part of them, and create new ones. That was what true love was about, wasn't it?

Being in John's arms, reminded her of the times when _he_ used to take her in his arms to comfort her —or himself— after a particularly trying adventure. The illusion to be back in the Doctor's arms was so vivid, that she thought she could breathe _his_ scent and not John's. The spell so powerful, that she thought she heard the beating of two hearts. If only she closed her eyes, she could deceive herself and believe that she was still with _him_. 

Except for the kiss, obviously. Of course he was _not_ the Doctor: he would have never been so open and so forthcoming about his feelings for her, even if he would have wanted it. Or had felt them, which remained to be proved.

Could John heal her from the Doctor? Was it only fair to him to expect that? Of course it wasn't! This was another reason for her restraint. Be kissed by John, and think about what might have been to be properly kissed by the Doctor. Alas, she would never know.

Rose sighed. Perhaps she should let the Doctor go, for good, and give John a proper chance. He deserved it. She wanted to give him it. Next time, she would talk to him, and if, by chance, he was still interested, and/or tried to kiss her again... Well, she would allow herself to give in.

 

♂♀

 

A renewed and unexpected hope was born in the Doctor's hearts since he had finally decided to be his true self to her: at present he wanted to fight for her with everything he was worth for, even if he had to fight against his alter ego, and put a definitive end to his too numerous lies. 

He would start the evening as 'John' and would end it as the Doctor. No matter what. Preferably with Rose in his arms, her soft lips captured by his, doing the very thing he had always dreamed about. The Doctor scolded himself; this wasn't the moment to take _that_ path, and let his longing take the lead: cool head had to be his key word.

He wasn't yet sure whether to invite Rose, clearly signifying her his, John's, purpose of winning her —seduce her— or give the evening a relaxed pace not to frighten her. Then, as under an impulse, take her in his arms and let his hearts talk. 

He might, for instance, just surprise her: invite her for a tray-TV night, and make her find a candlelit meal instead. Or they might go out. A posh restaurant, perhaps? But that would risk to give, right from the beginning, a 'date' tone to the evening and scare her off at full speed.

 

The Doctor weighed the pros and cons, then chose something more informal. He didn't want to pressure her too much; especially with the revelation that was coming her way. He hoped he had made the right decision, that it wouldn't be too early, too much, or even too late, full stop.

 

♂♀

 

“How does it sound a TV marathon? I'm in the mood for a rewatch. A Film, a series, I'm not picky. I've got Pride and Prejudice, with that actor you like so much; actually, I've got all his Films, if you prefer something else. Or we could watch one or two 'Harry Potter', I've just bought the box set. Any preference or suggestion? 

“Pride and Prejudice sound great! I love Colin Firth! When?” Rose wedged her mobile between her ear and shoulder, and grabbed her datebook. 

The Doctor shivered in anticipation and hope. “Tomorrow night, if it's alright? Unless you have other plans...with Sean, perhaps.”

“No, nothing specific. Tomorrow will be perfect. I'll bring chips.” 

“Actually— uh, this isn't necessary, I have planned everything. I wanted to, uh, celebrate something with you.”

“Really? Something good, then?”

“I'll tell you tomorrow night, it's a surprise!”

“No hint at all?”

“Wait and see, impatient girl.”

“Fine, have your way. See you tomorrow then. I'm looking forward to learn what it is.”

“I'm not giving away my surprise, but I can tell you that I'm as excited about it as you are,” he said with a chuckle, wondering if he sounded rather enigmatic to Rose's ears.

 

♂♀

 

“What about a nice dinner and a Film tonight?” Sean asked Rose.

“Sorry, I'm taken elsewhere.”

“With our neighbour, _again_ , I bet! You spend much more time at work and with him than with _me_ ,” he complained.

“Sean, we have already talked about it: we are just good friends, that's all!”

“Yeah, sure. A friend who happens to lust after you. Not so friendly like, if you ask me,” he said sarcastically.

“His manners or feelings are none of your concern, Sean. If anything, it's _his_ problem, not yours,” she retorted.

“It is, if tries to steal my fiancé. Rose, marry me, now! Let's built a family: be the mother of my children, give me a chance to prove you, for the rest of our lives, how much I worship you.” 

“Sean, I don't think it would be a good idea. I'm not built for that kind of life. Not yet at least, not before a long time. I'm not ready to give up my job and everything I've struggled so hard to obtain just because of your fears, or your jealousy. No one owes me, neither you nor a random bloke! Not now, not ever!”

“But I want to build a life with you, grow old together, find you welcoming me when I come back home from work...”

“Apparently, we don't share the same goals,” Rose interrupted.

“So, you're dumping me? If you let me go, I'll never come back, think it out carefully!”

“It's for the better, for you and for me... I don't wish to be half happy. Listen, Sean, I might seem harsh, but you deserve to be fully loved, not only half: I can't give you the kind of love you deserve, I never could... and I am sorry, so sorry.”

“It's still your Doctor thing all over again, isn't it? I could heal you, Rose, I could help you to really leave it all behind.”

“It _is_ behind! Sean, perhaps you don't believe it now, but one day you will admit that I was right. Goodbye, Sean.”

 

Later, pouring herself a cup of tea, she recalled the conversation with her —at present— ex boyfriend; she was glad she had had the nerve to properly break up with him. She had matured, and had been able to talk, even if belatedly, to him. As opposed to the unofficial closure she had had with Mickey all those years ago. Now she had to deal with John's feelings, and most of all —which made her more than uncomfortable— with _hers_. 

 

♂♀

 

When Rose knocked on his door, the Doctor was ready to welcome her and everything he had planned to do and say. In the meantime, he was excited and terrified to death. Not so ready then. What had he gotten himself into? What had he been thinking to— No, he couldn't go back, it was now or never. He took a deep breath, tried to calm the wild beating of his hearts, and opened the door with a (fake) casual smile plastered on his handsome features.

 

“I brought banana muffins, as our tradition, and a bottle of red wine.” Rose handed him two bags.

Rose wore his favorite smile, tongue between her teeth. His hearts melt and had to call upon all his willpower to recover a semblance of casual. “Great! I thought that we could've dinner, then drink our tea with the muffins while watching a couple of episodes.”

“So, what about your surprise?” she asked.

“I'll tell you, I promise, but let's enjoy our dinner firstly.”

 

The dinner had been perfect, if he could say so himself. He had been open, had made her laugh, and had kept the atmosphere very relaxed —while still managing to temporise the thing to 'celebrate'. He wasn't ready for that yet. Was he? He had to, and he will.

At present, settled on the sofa with their steaming cups, they exchanged their impressions about the first few episodes they had watched.

“Are you, finally, telling me what we are celebrating? Were you appointed Dean or something?” Rose prodded.

Gradually, they had got closer to one another, until almost touching. Neither of them seemed neither bothered, nor astonished by their increasing closeness.

He hesitated for a heartbeat. “Rose, first of all I wanted to thank you for being so patient and kind with me, for accepting my friendship despite—” Slightly rosy cheeks he leaned towards her. 

Rose turned towards him with enquiring eyes, awaiting for him to continue.

“That is— I wanted—” He bent some more and descended his lips to Rose's.

She didn't stiffened, but she didn't respond either. 

Desperate to see her unresponsive, he was going to move away, when —finally— she put her hands on his shoulders, and opened to him deepening the kiss. Ah! The blessing of being kissed by Rose. A true and proper kiss, that is. The moment he had dreamed about since he wore a leather jacket.

Suddenly he realised: she was kissing 'John'. Then giving himself some mentally kicking, the Doctor let himself get lost in Rose's kiss, in Rose's taste, breathing Rose, feeling her, vibrantly alive, and responding. 

Time stopped turning, replaying in loop and slow motion, this instant which didn't stop to last.

Then everything changed.

At the cost of a Herculean effort on his will, he broke the kiss, pulled slightly away from her, then took her hands, and placed them on his hearts while begging her with his ardent gaze.

“D— Doctor?” She made a leap backwards, incredulous and shocked, then curled herself against the opposite corner of the sofa, trembling and panting heavily.

“Rose, I— ”

“How dare you!” She was pale with rage and betrayed trust. She was so angry and hurt that she stammered.

“Rose, let me explain—” He was literally panicking.

“No Doctor. So that you could serine me some more lies? So that you could continue to betray the little trust I had left in you, or destroy the little self-confidence I still have? So that you could waste the few good memories I had left? No, scratch that. It's already done. You've already destroyed my trust leaving behind my back. You've nothing more to say, and I've nothing else to listen to.” She had regained enough control over herself to get up and start moving towards the door.

“No!” He had risen and joined her, his hand covering one of Rose's already resting on the handle: “Rose, listen to me, let me explain, please, Rose.” His eyes were filled with a silent and desperate plea.

“Farewell Doctor.”

“We cannot part us like that!”

She didn't bothered to turn. “Oh yes, we can! Furthermore, it seems to me that this act has already been played. I seem to remember that it was _you_ who had disappeared without a goodbye or an explanation whatsoever. You're in luck, Doctor, to be entitled to a 'Goodbye'. You don't lack of sass to require that to me,” she said withering.

"What I cannot ask in the name of our friendship, in all that we have experienced together, the feelings that we have shared, I ask to your sense of justice, to your empathy and your loving heart. Please, Rose, offer me your listening. Offer me a closure. In the name of all that had been. Save me just one last time, Rose. Then you can go and you'll never ever hear from me again. I promise.”

“The feelings we've shared? I owe you nothing, Doctor. If I listen to you, and I emphasize ' _if_ ', I'll do it for me, not for you. You do not deserve it!”

“I know! Thank you Rose, that's all I ask for. Not your pity. Not your love. I don't deserve them, as you have so justly pointed out. I only ask for your listening, up to the end, and for your understanding. I don't even ask for your forgiveness. I wish that what I did, won't darken your memories. Not of me, but of our experiences lived together. So that it won't remain only the bitterness, but also some happy memories that could soften my shortcomings."

“So be it. If I listen to you, do you promise me that you'll be gone out of my life forever? That you won't return, under any form, or that you won't try to make me change my mind?”

“I swear.” The Doctor was about to take her hand and place it between his hearts but gave up, giving, instead, a shy wave of the hand towards the couch which they had occupied before. Was it mere minutes ago? Was it hours? He couldn't tell, and he didn't care for the world. All that mattered was that Rose had agreed to listen to him.

 

He had thought that the hardest would be to approach her, to successfully step into her life —again— and win her friendship and trust, and later, if he was lucky, very very lucky, her love. 

He had thought that the hardest would be to tell her what he had kept silent for years.

He was wrong. The hardest part was yet to come.


	9. Opening

Rose and the Doctor sat down on the couch, as far as possible from each other; Rose by choice, and the Doctor by obligation. He would have loved more than anything though, to take her in his arms. He longed to whisper sweet nothings in her ear, imbibe himself fully in her, and forget himself in her. Forever, as she had, so long ago, promised. 

He had brought their glasses and opened a bottle of white wine, they would need it, assuredly. Well... _he_ would need it, in any case. 

“I'm listening Doctor.” Rose, brave as ever, yet avoiding purposely his gaze, and arms crossed as if to put a physical barrier between them, spoke the first.

The Doctor, posture tense, didn't dare claim the right to look straight in her beautiful eyes. Rose's wonderful eyes which had always made him dizzy. He cleared his throat and remembered, “it all started with the prophecy of the beast. No, actually it all started with 'Run!'”

Rose huffed impatiently but didn't interrupt him.

The Doctor ran a nervous hand on his hair bringing back the customary disorder to it. “Sorry. As a preamble I need you to know that I'm hopelessly in love with you, I've been for a very, very long time. Always have, to be honest. I've been a coward, Rose, for not telling, for not trying sooner to catch up the huge mistake of never telling you, and never acting according to my deepest wishes, and particularly according to your merits.”

Rose, seized in her surprise, blushed deeply, and fidgeted in her corner of the sofa. She tried unsuccessfully to say something, anything, but nothing came out. 

“No, please let me continue,” he begged.

Rose merely acquiesced.

“I have made many mistakes in my long life, you can even call them faults, but there are some I'll never forgive myself. Here is one.” He gulped a little sip of wine to recover his breath and think about what he was going to say next. “When we were on Krop Tor, the creature predicted that, very soon, you'll die in battle. I lied to you, Rose, when I said it made up stories. For some time, already, I had been feeling a storm coming, and it terrified me. I had seen the Timelines take a path I couldn't elude. I didn't want to lose you, I _couldn't_ lose you. I was desperate. So I did the only thing I didn't intend to do: I gave you up. I had to leave you at your mother's in order to protect you.” The Doctor's eyes were tinged with sadness and resignation.

Again Rose tried to speak, but, again, the Doctor halted her with a gesture.

“I couldn't say goodbye to you. If I had tried, if I had, only just for a moment, turned back I would never had done it, and you would've been lost forever. How could I've left you, looking at you in the eye, knowing that I would never have the chance to see you again? So I left, like a thief, turning my back to the happiness of being with you. Knowing that you, too, you... I've spent months, years, suffering the consequences. Years moping around, making unhappy everyone who had approached me. I've plunged into adventures designed to get the better of me. Yet, cursed fate, I was still there, living without you by my side giving me a reason to live and hope.”

He ventured a little, wet, look to her, but Rose refused to look at him and had her eyes stubbornly fixed on the black screen of the television.

“I came back, one first time, to beg you to return travel with me. You refused, you were right my Rose, because I've been a perfect imbecile. But, at that moment, something snapped in me, my reason left me and I was willing to risk everything to have you by my side again. I told myself that you, with good reason, of course, would never want _me_ , so I concocted a plan. Maybe if you would no longer love a silly Time Lord, who, incidentally, didn't deserve it, maybe you would have some affection for a human. So I came back a second time.”

Rose was dumbfounded, and to hide her commotion, took a sip of wine. She still couldn't look at him in the eye for it was too painful. Moreover she wanted, needed, to stay livid at him. 

He shook his head despising himself for his lack of honesty. “No, the truth is that I was hoping that you would fall in love with _me_. I was hoping to win your heart, then have the chance to tell you the truth. So that you wouldn't hate me too much and, maybe, one day, come back to me. At present, I know that it was the stupidest thing I could have done. I wanted you, Rose, I always have, and always will. Yes, I've deceived you, I've made you believe that I wasn't the one who I am. I've paid for it. Not a single moment I haven't suffered because of my poor choices, and haven't been jealous of the progress which 'John' was making in your heart. The same progress which were taking you away from _me_.”

The Doctor had a self-deprecating chuckle, and ruffled nervously his hair, “I'm John. His desires are mine, his affection —his love— is mine. I was jealous of myself. I've wished to cut him into pieces because he had the right to spend time with you, he could talk to you, look at you. John had a chance, he could hope what I, the Doctor, couldn't. But, one day, I decided to stop the shams, to talk to you with open hearts, even if I risked sending everything out the window, and lose you for good. You had the right to know the truth, you had the right to choose. I've too long chosen for you, mistakenly believing that I knew better than you what is good for you.”

Finally Rose had a little smile; the Doctor's hearts were snorkeling.

“I swear that I had decided to stop everything, to tell you the truth and give you the right to choose if you still wanted me... or not. That's what I did, I told you the truth, didn't I?”

“Doctor, that's all well and good, but have you, just for a moment, taken _my_ feelings in account? Do you realise that you've acted as a proper narcissist? Have you _ever_ really seen me for who I am? Have you, just once, not seen other people through the screen of your whims or desires? Have you, ever, respected other people's choices?”

The Doctor lowered his head in shame but said nothing.

“Doctor, I can understand the abandonment, I can understand 'John' but why didn't you tell me something, anything, the first time you came back? Why all this?” She made a large gesture which embraced everything she was trying to prove.

“I was ashamed, I was terrified and, I think, I still wasn't ready to confess my feelings, and to completely open up to you.”

“Whatever. Why then, if what you say about your feelings towards me is true—” 

The Time Lord made a face and opened his mouth to argue. 

She went on, as if he hadn't tried to interrupt her, getting a grip on herself to pronounce _that_ name, the suffering as alive and as stinging as at that time. "Why Madame de Pompadour? Why abandon _us_ : Mickey and me, on that Spaceship, why flirt with her? Why kiss her? Why don't trust us, Mickey and me?”

“I was witnessing, day after day, my resistance cracking, I was terrified by the strength of my feelings for you. I was terrorized by the ineluctability of an end. Rose, you know that our life expectancy is not the same, don't you? How could I have gone on, without you, having tasted, the span of a lightning, the happiness of being with you? Properly, that is. I had thought it would have been less painful to give you up right from the start, rather than live in the memories and mourning a great love lived, then lost. It would've been too painful, it would have shattered me. I just couldn't!”

Rose had crossed her arms again, her mouth just a tight line, still refusing to meet the Doctor's eyes. “Doctor, that's selfishness!”

He had a sad smile. “I know! I swear that there had never been anything between us, with Madame de Pompadour, I mean. She kissed me, I let her. She believed herself in love with the valiant knight in his shining armour, but it wasn't me. It still isn't. It will never be. She thought she knew me, but she didn't. I've let you believe that there had been more, to push you away from me because I hadn't the strength to do it. I was too far gone, in my feelings for you, to bring myself to push you away from me.”

He fell silent, lost in thoughts, then he spoke again. “When I met you, I was coming out of the Time War, I was an old man broken by war and guilt. I had lost everything: my planet, my people, my family. You've been my salvation. You've filled my emptiness... with your hand, with your mere presence by my side. Suddenly my hand was no more empty, I hadn't lost everything as I had won the right to hope and live again, less burdened. Your strength and resilience, your compassion and your generosity, your bravery... You have challenged me, contested me and you've remained high head, facing me. Fearless. You've saved me and made me better, Rose.”

Tears began to bathe her cheeks, but she didn't bother to wipe them away, letting their way down instead. She hadn't the strength to say anything, or even make a simple gesture. Too moved to do anything but weep silently.

“At first I had hated Mickey, you know? Even though I thought I only despised him as 'the idiot', another stupid ape. Actually, I was jealous, jealous of him because he had you, he had had you and still had a place in your heart. A place I wanted for myself only. I was jealous of Adam, that little cretin who let a chip being inserted in the middle of his forehead, and didn't know what he had. What he could have had if only...I was jealous because he was pretty and I wasn't. Jealous of Jack, of course, and his ease around you, his way of continually flirting with you. You wouldn't believe how many times I had wanted to throw him into the nearest black hole to get rid of him. Well, Jack is the only one who understood, he was the one who opened my eyes to what I would've lost if I didn't act. And fast.”

He made a shy gesture, as to lay his hand on hers, but changed his mind. It was Rose who took his in hers. A wave of relief and pure joy washed him, but still he didn't dare to even meet her eyes and stared instead at their joined hands. Just enjoying the feeling and the miracle of it.

“Then there was the Game Station?” Rose asked pensively.

“Yes. I was sentenced, with no chance to get out, so I sent you back home, safe, but you came back. And for the first time, I started to hope. You had returned for me. For _me_ , Rose. At the same time I was so scared: you had absorbed all the energy of the Time Vortex and you were dying. I took it from you, but I had to regenerate. It was the best regeneration of my lives because I carried with me the taste of your lips.”

Rose had a disbelieving gesture.

“Yes Rose, I have kissed you, I could have chosen other ways to remove the Time Vortex from you, but I wanted to take that with me, to engrave this in my memory. Forever, because I didn't know, I didn't think I would ever be lucky enough to kiss you again.” He gently ran the fingertips of his free hand on his lips. 

He risked, again, a glance towards Rose, awaiting, in vain, for her to say something; Rose's posture was still stiff. 

“Then I regenerated, made for you: prettier, looking younger, more cheerful... But I didn't know if you would like me. And I continued to be jealous, but I knew how to better hide it. Then, when I realized that everything was possible, that I had chances on your heart, I was scared of being annihilated if I had lost you. I understand now what Mickey must have suffered when you started travelling with me.”

Rose was still silent but her features didn't express anger any longer. She was just thoughtful. She was trying to absorb a ton of information, the enormity of the Doctor's confession —and all that implied— and she was struggling to bring order in all this. Her head was a deafening cacophony of mixed emotions.

“You know, Mickey left because he was ready, because he had matured and knew that there was a world where he was going to be needed, where he would be useful, and where there would be a place for him, despite Rickey. He had mourned the two of you for good, and was ready to go, to let you go, for he had hoarded the good memories and they were _his_. No one could ever steal them from him, even I. He has been, he _is_ better than me, wiser, more generous.”

Rose started again to cry softly. The Doctor dared to touch her cheek to collect her tears with the back of his fingers, and bring them to his lips to kiss them.

She let him.


	10. Questions and Answers

Rose was —finally— in his arms, and the Doctor, out of fear of hurting or scaring her, clutched her as tight as he dared. He dreaded that she would get free from his embrace and would fly far away, evaporating like a soap bubble. The happiness of holding her tight, right up against him, made him almost stop breathing. He had missed it, so much. He had missed _her_ , desperately. He swore to all the deities he knew, that he would never let her to go away from him; if he had something to say on the matter, that is.

“At present you know the ins and outs of my behaviour... but if you've other questions I'll answer. And I won't lie to you, I promise.” He pulled reluctantly away to look at her in the eyes.

“What have you been up all this time? Of course you've travelled and saved the universe, that's what you do, but have you been travelling alone? How long has it been for you?” she asked.

The Doctor was well aware that he had to be honest, up to the end. He owed her, he wanted to; in addition, he had promised a complete openness. He could do that. “A few years, way too long, in any case. At first I've travelled alone. I couldn't— I didn't want either way. Then there had been occasional passengers, a trip or two, never more, and almost never again humans.”

“Really? Why not humans?” she asked astonished.

He inhaled deeply. He didn't know how Rose would take what he was going to tell her. “Well... Some time after I lost you, I met Martha, a medical student, human. She has saved my life, more than once, I have nearly shattered hers. We have travelled together for a few months, saved a couple of planets, met Shakespeare. I brought her to New Earth... I couldn't help myself. Martha didn't appreciate, I can tell you that. She was, she is, smart and courageous and didn't deserve to have her heart smashed into pieces. So she left and, honestly, I cannot blame her. I'm not proud of myself.”

The Doctor didn't tell her about his self-destructive instincts, the Kamikaze's adventures, and the hole of black despair into which he had fallen without her, Rose. But he didn't need to, Rose understood; she was certain that his stories were purified of his suffering, and were somewhat watered down. 

“You mean she fell in love with _you_. And... what about you?”

“No no no, Rose how can you believe that I could—”

“It's fine Doctor. I understand.”

“No Rose, that's not— well, actually Martha fell in love —and I'm ashamed just thinking about it— but I told her, right from the beginning, that no one could _ever_ replace you. I was tough on her. I didn't want her affection, I didn't want her to suffer because of me. Apparently this is what I do best. I make suffer those who approach me.” He run his free hand through his hair ruffling it even more.

Rose arched her eyebrow but said nothing.

“So she left on her own will. She has rebuilt her life, for real. She's happy now.”

“There has been no one else, then?” More than a question it was a quest for reassurance, and Rose, a little bit jealous nonetheless, couldn't help asking it.

“No, after this experience I've been standing away from the human race in general, and the female contingent in particular.” 

“Are you telling me, you're a ladykiller?” Rose said in a chuckle.

“Don't laugh. The only person on whom I had ever wanted to have a devastating effect—”

“Doctor!” Rose admonished. 

“Fine. I won't tell more, but it doesn't prevent it to be true.” The Doctor made his first real smile, one of those who reached his expressive brown eyes. “I've paid Jack a visit, I needed to talk about you, to be —at least for a little moment— with someone who had known you, and would understand, someone who _knew_. Needless to say, I wasn't spared and, you know him, he gave me some of his own advice.”

Rose laughed heartedly: “I can guess what sort of advice. How is he? The last time I saw him we were on the Game Station.” She couldn't help but put him to the test.

“He's fine, he's in Cardiff, he works for Torchwood. But it's hush-hush, you know this, though, don't you? I'll tell you everything, if you want. He misses you a lot. But don't tell him I've told you that we have met. He is persuaded that you will slap him to death for this. But we could pay him a visit, if you want. What do you think?”

“You bet I will slap him, the traitor! I haven't said yes, though. But thank you, I really appreciate your openness and your efforts to be straightforward; it means a lot to me.”

The Doctor blushed slightly. “ _You_ mean a lot to me! And I'm very proud of you, you know? You're independent and strong... but I've always known that you'll succeed in your life. Although, in my opinion, you deserve better than that... uh, boyfriend that you drag along with you.”

“You're not going to be jealous, eh Doctor? You don't have any right. Furthermore you know very well, or at least suspect, that with Sean it's over. This is the second boyfriend I've dumped because of you. You're ruining my love life. Don't think, even remotely, that's going to become a habit.”

“As far as I'm concerned I would be delighted by learning about all the boyfriends with whom you break up, especially if it's because of me.” The Doctor couldn't help a smug smirk. Then, suddenly taken by a doubt, he frowned. “Unless the boyfriend in question is me.”

“Oi. Just so you know: you're _not_ my boyfriend, never have, and I'm not sure, you'll _ever_ be! Moreover, I'm still furious, and you still owe me an explanation.”

“Are you sure?” He bantered.

“Yes Doctor. I have _not_ forgiven you. I'm not sure that I'll ever be able to, but I'll listen to you, up to the end.”

“Thank you,” he whispered, serious again.

“What about the storm you had felt approaching?” she asked.

“Ah! You know, of course, that the Time Lords can read Timelines.” 

Rose nodded.

“Let's say that it's a bit more complicated to read the Timelines of those who are close to us. But it is clear enough to see what it's not good at all, for instance. I was destined to lose you Rose. Something was coming, and it was a fixed point; I was certain of that! That's why I wanted to protect you, by leaving you at your mother's. I didn't know exactly what was going to separate us. You might have been mortally wounded on a galaxy millions of light-years from home. You might have been lost I don't know where. I couldn't protect you from everything, all the time. I was beyond than desperate.”

“I can look after myself, Doctor,” she retorted.

He sighed again, “I know, but at that time I just knew that there was something dreadful hanging over us. I preferred to be separated from you, knowing you safe and sound —and happy, given time, even if it had to be without me— even if it was killing me. But at least I knew where and when you were. Although I couldn't be with you or see you again, you weren't really lost.”

“And now, Doctor? Aren't those Timelines, as ominous as before? Why did you come back if it was so dangerous?” Rose prodded.

The Doctor pressed her a little more against him, sighing in happiness for having her so close to his chest. “You know why I came back,” he whispered, before daring to kiss her hair. 

Again she didn't protest but stiffened a bit, which made him wince.

“So, the Timelines?”

“Now it's gone. The Timelines have changed, I feel it. Now everything is possible. The Timelines are in flux, more than before. Our future—”

Rose shook her head, interrupting his momentum. 

He winced again. “Fine, Rose. Our futures. Our futures are to be decided now. Whatever your decision will be, it will have an influence on the Timelines.”

“If you say so. But how can it be?”

“There are, as you know, fixed points that we cannot change, which is set in Time so to speak, and others points which aren't: those are the ones which are in flux, therefore I can change them without catastrophic consequences; without the annihilation of the universe and whole Time all together. In a way, the fact that I'll lose you, one way or another, was a fixed point. But the fact that I've decided 'when and how', allowed to make the Timeline, following this fixed point, less stable, if I dare say. Thus, change those consequences.”

“So, by fulfilling the prophecy, you made in flow what was fixed?”

“Exactly! That's talking like a true Time Lady! You know, Rose, you don't give yourself enough merits.” He beamed.

“So, the Timelines, ours, depend on what I'll choose? That seems incredible. Moreover you are giving me a very heavy responsibility.”

“But Rose, it's true. Whether you decide to travel back on the TARDIS or stay here, everything will change from this moment on. I wouldn't pressure you —and I must admit that I'd rather the first option— but our Timelines are intertwined, whether you like it or not.”

“I'm not sure that I like it. Anyway, will you accept my decision, whatever it is? Will you hold on it, without trying to interfere? Could you do that?” Rose asked, a serious expression on her features.

“Rose I can't promise you that I won't be itching to come and check how you're doing. Or that I won't do it. But if you don't want to see me, I'll stay away. You won't see me and you won't hear from me.” He looked at her but her expression was inscrutable. 

He added shyly. “If that's what you really want.”

“Doctor, my head is spinning with all this. I must clear up all this, and think it out. I haven't forgiven you, and I've a life here, a job, my mum, friends... but I promise I'll think about it, and try to understand. But I need time.”

“Take all the time you need. I'll wait, and whatever your decision is, I'll comply. Whether you decide to forgive me, or not, whether you come back home—”

“Doctor.” 

“Yes, fine, sorry.” He raised his hands in capitulation.

She freed herself from his embrace, still surprised to find out that she had, for first, permitted it. She would think about _that_ too. Later. “Goodnight Doctor.”

“Goodnight,” he said aloud before whispering, “my love.”

 

♂♀

 

The very first person whom she thought calling, was, obviously, Sarah Jane: she deserved to know that the Doctor was back: what he had plotted, and revealed. Moreover she needed a well-considered advice. With still slightly trembling fingers, she dialed Sarah Jane's mobile.

“It's _him_ , oh dear _he_ 's back!” She panted.

“Rose? Who's back? What are you talking about? Breathe!”

“John. He's the Doctor. No, the Doctor is John.”

“Rose, you aren't making any sense. Tell me everything, in the right order!” Prodded the elder woman.

After a couple of failed attempts, Rose succeeded in making a short, but still a bit confused, account of the events.

“So, the Doctor has come back again after you sent him packing, but, this time, sort of disguised,” wondered Sarah Jane.

“Yeah.”

“What was he thinking? That's madness! He might have ruined everything. Imagine if you had fallen in love with John, what would he have done? Hide during all your life behind an alias? And what if you hadn't wanted him, would he have come back with another fake identity? How could he expect you to forgive him after _that_. Oh Rose! He must be so very much in love to act like that. How reckless of him!”

“I don't know what to think anymore,” she complained.

“First thing first: do you still love him?” 

“I don't know... Well, actually I do. Oh Sarah Jane, heavens help me, I do... but you're right, I don't know if I can forgive him, or if I will ever,” Rose answered.

“Have you told him so?”

“I don't know, I can't think straight, I'm so confused and hurt, and so very angry. John, the Doctor, I was falling in love with him. Oh I'm furious... and happy, and scared, and absolutely livid, and I feel like I could dance, and weep at the same time!”

“Falling in love with John? That's not very astonishing, after all,” laughed Sarah Jane.

“What do I do?” 

“I'll answer with the very same words I said to you so long ago: some things are worth—”

“I know, I know... but I'm not nineteen anymore. How can I trust him now?”

“Little by little, my Rose. He loves you, madly, and, be honest, you return him the favour, you've said that much, just minutes ago.”

“I don't know what to think.”

“Yes, you do!”

Rose, lost in thought, didn't answer.

“You are the only one he has come back for. Twice? Three times? More? He has never come back for me, or anyone else, for that matter. Not once. Listen, sweetheart, do you prefer to be miserable with him, or miserable without him? I've seen you at that time, and you _were_ miserable without him!”

“I've been miserable _with_ him too!”

“Yes, perhaps. But not all the time! Maybe he has changed, I'm certain he has. Let flow some water under the bridge, think it out, then you'll decide. But remember... it's about your whole life! Think about what _is_ important, and what is _not_.”

“I know, but...”

“Don't make my mistakes, Rose, don't spend your life regretting what you have done, or _not_ done. Are you ready to live your whole life without him? Forever? Will you have the nerve to take this chance to be with the love of your life?”

 

♂♀

 

Rose felt dizzy and found that it was impossible for her to fall asleep. She kept turning in her mind everything the Doctor had told her —and all the implications which entailed. It was mostly _the_ revelation he had made her, which added to the confusion.

He _loved_ her, always had, and had left her in order to protect her. Well, also as a self-protection, but he wouldn't be the Doctor, if he had acted otherwise. He had been open and sincere, honest —if she trusted her instinct— and hadn't hidden anything from her, he hadn't juggled with his answers as he usually did before.

The Doctor was in love with her. So much in love to risk everything to protect her. So very much in love to come back for her once, then a second time. Desperate for her. Ready to face anything for her. Ready to challenge the Time Lords' immutable laws. This frightened and made her euphoric at the same time.

She still loved him, no doubt about that. Would she, however, be strong enough to forgive him and, over time, restore her trust? 

Could she go on without him, now that she knew his true feelings, and all that he had been ready to jeopardise for her?

Could she travel with him fearing that, one day, he might —could, would— abandon her again?

Would their love be strong enough to win against their past errors, misunderstanding and fears?

Was she ready to take the chance, or should she continue on the safer path? 'The devil you know...' as people said. 

There was only one way to find it out.


	11. Rules

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We are almost there! Just the epilogue (featuring, let's say a... surprise) to go, and that's all!

As expected, and comprehensible, Rose spent the night weightening pros and cons: at dawn she had made up her mind. She had also looked into her heart, as honestly as she could, and all she had seen, was, predictably, him. 

The Doctor was, obviously, a fairly important issue, but he wasn't the main one: she had to consider her mum, her job, her friends... In short: her whole life on Earth. Not to mention her own heart. If she wanted _this_ to work, she had to establish boundaries and some rigorous and binding rules. That might be a way to put the Doctor —and his claimed feelings— to test, and prove to herself how serious he was. She couldn't afford to have her heart shattered _again_.

She wasn't ready to travel with him as they had done when she was a naive (and very much in love) nineteen years old young woman. She needed a buffer, no matter who. But mostly she needed to protect her feelings; the scar was still too raw, and she wasn't anxious to see her wound reopened.

She made a list, more for herself than for him, and told herself that the hardest, her decision, was, perhaps, behind her. Now she had to talk to the Doctor. She would give him some time for reflection, and, from there on, either they would take a common path, or would separate forever. No half measures.

Rose felt in good shape despite her sleepless night and the revelations, major and incredible as they were, which had made the Doctor the night prior. She just hoped that she had taken the right decision, and that she hadn't put her whole life —and sanity— at stake. Had she, though?

She sent a message to the Doctor giving him rendezvous for the same evening, and sighing, prepared herself for a very due call, and visit, to her mother. 

 

Settled on Jackie's sofa, a steaming kettle and two cups on the coffee table, Rose made a succinct account of the whole story. Jackie, who could have been called a lot of things save for stupid or humourless, understood in a heartbeat the whole situation.

“The Doctor, uh-huh!”

Rose nodded. “Yeah.”

“So, he's really bonkers, isn't he? The pair of you, by the bye! What are you going to do? Do you trust him? I've always known, you'll end up with him. I've pushed you to date with John, haven't I? Well, the Doctor. Whatever!” Jackie peppered Rose with questions, without even take the time for breathing, nor give her daughter time to answer.

“I don't know mum, I'm not very sure. Well, I am, but...”

“Tell him that if he doesn't behave well, or if he dares to break your heart again, he'll suffer the consequences, I've still got my cricket bat, and I haven't lost practice: I can still slap him into his next regeneration, or regenerations, plural, until he becomes ginger. Even better: I'll slap him, as soon as I see him, full stop!”

“I still got to talk to him, mum, and nothing is really settled on,” she sighed.

“Have you thought about your job? What about your friends? And Sean? Never mind... I just know you'll take off with that alien of yours! But please, sweetheart, be prudent. I don't want to see you suffer again, I won't permit it! I'm your mum, it's my job to protect, and keep you safe. Even if I don't agree with your choices. Not that I'm saying that I don't agree. I'm just saying that I'll always be there for you. No matter what!”

“I know, mum. Thank you! I'll be prudent, I promise. And _I_ can slap him, too; I'm still a Tyler.”

“Well, he does deserve a slap or two, doesn't he?”

Rose just smiled over the rim of her cup.

“Just one thing, sweetheart, promise me that you'll come and visit me often. As often as you can,” sighed Jackie.

“I promise. Moreover, if you want, you can travel with us, as long as you want, and be home just ten seconds after you've left.”

“To end up lost on Mars? No way! But you can come and stay a bit. And call me very often, tell me how he behaves.”

“I promise.”

“Fine. I reckon, I'll have to cope with a daughter whose boyfriend is an alien. I'm not sure, though, I'll like to have grandchildren with tentacles.”

“Mum!”

“Just saying! You should think about it, though.”

“Mum!”

“Fine, fine. Just call me, love,” she pleaded.

“I'll call and visit, often, I promise!”

“Fine. You know, Rose, I've always known that you weren't made for a daily grind: beans on toast, job, sleep, and the such. The only thing I wish for, is you to be happy and fulfilled. I know he can offer you that, even though he's a daft alien. If you're happy, then I'm happy, and that's it!”

“I know! I have got to go, but I'll call you very soon, I promise. Bye!”

“Bye, love.” 

 

Once Rose gone, Jackie flopped down, again, on the sofa. She was glad that she had said, and done the right thing. Even if it hurt, even if she could lose her little girl in the wake. But the only thing that mattered, was Rose's happiness. Moreover, she wouldn't realy lose her; she would gain a son-in-law, and, maybe, grandchildren, preferably without tentacles.

 

♂♀

 

The Doctor couldn't believe yet his good fortune (or more so, Rose's kindness and generosity that had allowed him to open up to her). He knew that he didn't deserve it, that he didn't deserve her, but he couldn't help but feel almost joyful. He could almost dare to let himself hope. Rassilon, he wanted Rose, yearned for her, lusted after her, and loved her with all his might, and couldn't accept that his fate would be to give her up. He would regenerate from despair.

If she allowed him, he would show her every day, every single instant, the depth of his love for her. He would spend every second of his life (lives) begging for forgiveness and redemption. Still it wouldn't be enough, not by far.

 

The Doctor tried to distract himself from the —interminable— waiting, tinkering under the console. He didn't want to make small jumps in time, even if he was itching to shorten his sensation of living suspended; he was downright feeling weightless, without a net, and it was unsettling.

After receiving a few electrical discharges, in retaliation, from his ship (was she as nervous as he was?) he gave up to do repairs, and walked to the library in search of diversion.

A few hours, and several books later, he was delighted —but also terrified— to receive a message from Rose giving him rendezvous for the very same evening.

Was it a good thing that she had made up her mind after one single night? Did it mean that she agreed to travel with him again, or did it mean that she refused flatly to deal with him? His mind veered between one extreme to the other, alternately joyful or desperate in turn. In any case his fate, apparently, had been decided.

Despite the temptation, he didn't ventured to try to read their Timelines; he wasn't ready to learn, right now, the outcome of his beloved's decision. He should have to wait for the fateful hour and bend to the goodwill of the woman he loved from the depths of his hearts. And, as the earthlings loved to say: “what will be, will be!”

 

♂♀

 

Rose was increasingly nervous as the moment of meeting the Doctor neared; it was very hard for her to focus on her work, and not on the impending evening. Had she taken the right decision? Would he accept her terms? In which way their future(s) would be determinated? At what cost? All those questions swirled in her mind taking away, in their wake, her hard-won peace. 

 

Returned home from work, she decided to change her strict outfit for jeans and a light blue top. Seeing herself in the mirror she believed herself several years back. Aside from being decidedly thinner, and for her more natural-coloured, shorter hair (not to mention the less heavy hand on makeup), it was as if the old Rose was looking at herself in the mirror. Yet it was a more mature Rose, more meditative and wiser: before her stood a woman who had experienced loss, and grief early in her life, and had brilliantly coped.

Would she be willing to leave behind her all those years? Would she wish for it? She wasn't sure. She owed who she had become to all those years, even though she had suffered. Or, perhaps, precisely because of that. Moreover, truth must be said, all those years hadn't been filled with only tears and suffering; she had also learned how to live, laugh, and love again, although without the radiance she had experienced with the Doctor.

 

Light knocks on her door pulled her from her reverie; she exhaled a deep breath, smiled to her own reflection and walked to the door. He was punctual, she noticed.

This was it, the moment had come. It will be everything, or nothing at all.

The Doctor stood before her in his pinstriped brown suit, hair in his usual, organised, mess, closely shaved (except for his sideburns, obviously), horn-rimmed glasses on his nose.

It was him, in all his glory: the Doctor was back.

 

With a shy and somewhat awkward gesture, which didn't resembled him, he handed her a bouquet of lilies. “Those are your favorite... I believe.”

“Thanks, Doctor. How about a cup of tea? I was going to prepare myself a kettle, make you comfortable while I—”

“I'd rather keep you company.” The Doctor followed her into the kitchen not wanting to be deprived, even for a single second, of the sight of Rose. Who knew if he would see her again. If he would be allowed. The thought, alone, froze his blood. He should have to garner as much as possible of her, every feature of her lovely face, every expression, every tone in her voice. Each pore of her skin. He needed to take them away, with him, forever, just in case... No, he didn't want to even think about that possibility. He ought not. Could not.

 

A few minutes later they were comfortably seated on Rose's sofa, same places as the night before on John's. Each feeling as if it was a lifetime who had passed and not mere hours.

She took a deep breath, and said without preamble, “I'll come, Doctor.”

“What?” The Doctor's features expressed the greatest astonishment. He had been caught short. He had expected the worst: an outright rejection without explanation of any kind, without any plea whatsoever.

Then flooded the understanding.

Finally, he broke into a beaming smile. “Oh Rose—”

“Wait, Doctor. I'll come, but under conditions: I'll travel with you, but not all the time.”

The Doctor had an expression of despair.

“I want to visit my mum on regularly basis, often. And stay a few days.”

The Doctor didn't have a single one hesitation. “Yes.”

“Yes? Really?” Rose was stunned.

“Yes. Without hesitation. Absolutely. Eagerly.”

“Ah! Well then. So, I'll reintegrate my room on the TARDIS, if it's still there, and we'll be travelling companions, friends, nothing more. I don't feel ready to give you back my trust, and you have, repeatedly, broken my heart. Doctor, I'm not anxious to see it shattered again. I couldn't stand it, I won't allow you.”

He nodded, deadly serious. “Neither would I! And yes, of course your room is still there. I haven't touched it. How could I?” 

“Good.”

He coughed, and then making himself courageous but, the same time, not daring to believe it altogether, he asked, “Rose? Would I be allowed to hold you hand?”

Rose shook her head.

The Doctor's expression not quite sulky but certainly disappointed, made her smile. “We'll see. Oh, and I'd rather that we don't travel alone, at first at least. You could ask Martha to join us. Ask Sarah Jane or Jack, I'd love to see him again.”

The Doctor felt the bite of jealousy squeezing his entrails but tried to control it saying himself that he was not entitled to lay claim whatsoever to her.

Rose noticed but said nothing.

“With whom you want, Martha, Jack, Sarah Jane, another human, Alien, even K9 itself if you want. Although, I'm not sure I'd like to travel with your mother: she has slap arrears to give. It's your call, though,” he said rubbing his cheek.

Rose smiled. “Then it's settled. Can you, on the long run, prove me wrong for not trusting you?”

The Doctor couldn't do anything but shake vigorously, albeit sheepishly, his head.

“And you won't be allowed to flirt! With nobody. Animal, vegetable, or mineral. Stop breaking other people's hearts! Heard?”

“Even not with you? The flirting, that is.” His lovely pouting back on.

“Give me time Doctor.” Her tone was serious but she was smiling again. 

“But you will come back on the TARDIS?”

“Yes Doctor, I'm coming back on the TARDIS. You won't believe how much I have missed her.”

“She has missed you. I have missed you. We miss you.” 

Rose smiled again.

The Doctor felt emboldened. “Will you come back tonight?” Hope impregnated his handsome features.

“Let me get organised Doctor. I've got a job, I've got to warn them. I want to say goodbye to my friends. I must talk to my mum again, and spend some time with her before I resume my li— my travels with you. Besides I need some more time.”

The Doctor nodded vigorously, delighted with her slip. “I'll come to greet and talk to her. I owe her at least that. She deserves it, even though she'll slap me, first thing first, as a welcome.”

Rose laughed but said nothing.

The Doctor held out his hand. “Are you really coming back home?”

Rose took it. “Yes, Doctor, I'm coming back home.”


	12. Epilogue  - Last person in should close the door

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is the end of my story, but not theirs...  
> I hope you've enjoyed this, pretty bumpy, journey. I've loved writing it!  
> This story has a special meaning and is very dear to me; so, thank you all so very much for reading it, reviewing, or leaving kudos. It really means the world to me!

The Doctor looked at his little world with an expression of tender affection on his handsome features. Everybody was there, on board the TARDIS. His big family gathered once again: all the loved ones together in the same room. And it was absolutely Fantastic. Brilliant. Molto bene.

There was a time, it seemed so far away now, when he believed he was alone in the universe. Sarah Jane had proved him wrong: opposite him stood the living proof that she was right. Indeed he had the greatest family in the universe. The best family in the universe.

This would be the last time they would be all reunited; at least as far as those who came from Pete's world were concerned. Unless that two Time Lords combined, would manage to cross the Void separating the two universes. Like the 'good' old times when his (their) people was still there. But now there were more than very good chances that, with two Doctors and, who knows, another TARDIS, travel between realities would become a simple matter of routine. He was a genius after all. No, they were both geniuses considering that he and the Metacrisis were the same person. Which was, per se, a blessing and a curse.

Same person with some small differences, though. He smiled broadly, more than enchanted: _he_ was still unique, wasn't he? Then he frowned: so was the other one.

Their antagonism over Rose, but not only, had begun as soon as the Metacrisis was created by accident; neither one nor the other had the slightest intention of leaving Rose to his counterpart, and, to Jack's greatest amusement, they didn't stop bickering and teasing each other.

Donna's DNA contribution had, to his great satisfaction, caused a slight modification in his double's physiology: no more double cardiovascular system, a slight accelerated metabolism, and a dulled Time sense. 

Alas, it wasn't enough; for she seemed as drawn to the Metacrisis as she was to himself, which, of course, made him rather jealous. Obviously, he wouldn't have admitted it for anything in the universe(s). Moreover, he was well aware that Rose was perfectly conscious of their rivalry and mutual jealousy, and that, kindly, she had let it drop. So far, so good.

If only he could erase that smug expression from his _understudy_ 's face, everything would be more than fine. And if only he succeeded to keep her only for _himself_ , it would have been even better.

He was still terrorised that Rose would chose the _other_ over him, therefore he had kept studying their attitude — _discreetly_ , it goes without saying. Obviously nobody was deceived, namely Jack who couldn't stop smirking, and winking in all directions.

As expected, Jack being himself, his very first words, seeing the two of them side by side, had been: “Weee, you don't wanna know what I'm thinking right now!” Of course he had received not only one but two dirty looks, which hadn't prevented him from giving them a meaningful look. 

 

She was _his_. He was _hers_. They were meant to be together, as it should be. Apparently, and to his great dismay, the Metacrisis and himself shared the same conviction. If only he could send him in the parallel world and get ridden, once and for all, of that nuisance, everything would be perfect. They would once again be the stuff of legends: the Doctor (singular) and Rose Tyler.

Indeed they were together in all the ways that mattered, notwithstanding his regrettable faux-pas, id est the abandonment he could never forget quickly enough. After months of uncertainty spent, on both sides, gently testing the waters, she had taken the first step towards him, descending gradually the barrier she had erected to protect herself.

That sweet agony had lasted months and months; emotional precariousness interlaced with adventures, always with one (or more) chaperon, without even being allowed to hold her hand. Months of Sunday-dinners with Jackie where he had almost regenerate out of boredom and embarrassment at her jokes about how a beard was flattering on 'John'.

He had spent all those months proving her, every single day, that he would keep his promises, that she had his unconditional love. Forever. This, added to his patience (usually a foreign trait to the Doctor, who had nevertheless waited unflinchingly for her to accept him again), and the respect for her decisions, had been fruitful.

 

He looked again at his friends: Martha had returned to her studies, then had become a proper doctor. Donna had found her match in Lee, had lost then found him again, and they had married. Jack directed, officially at present, Torchwood Cardiff with the help of some faithful friends, and had even found true love in Ianto. Rose had begun to take his hand again. Then, during a visit to Woman Wept, she had kissed him.

He had, deliberately, brought her on the planet that evoked so many happy memories. He had hoped to find the courage to lean towards her and...

Rose had preceded him.

From that moment on, they had inexorably progressed on the path which would delete the last boundaries between them: they had become, finally, a proper couple. He could still hardly believe that he had won Rose's heart back for real, and that he wasn't still dreaming, alone, on his TARDIS.

 

The Doctor returned his attention back to the group chatting in twos in the Console Room, and especially on his twin. What should he do? Let him stay? But then he wasn't sure it would end well! Should he send him to Pete's world? Alone? Nah, he was too dangerous to be left on his own; he was _him_ after all. With Rose? No, no question! Should _he_ go with Rose? But... the universe needed the Doctor. (A Doctor?) The latest crisis had proven them it. Mickey's valuable assistance, who had succeeded to cross the Void to fetch help —and offer his own— was a clear proof that no universe was safe. 

It was Jackie who, unknowingly, decided for them all.

The Parallel Universe still had his Pete, they had met him when they had fallen there by accident. This Pete had lost his Jackie, cyberized during the great Cybermen's attack. As for Jackie, she'd been a widow for many years. The one, just like the other, had been standing motionless and incredulous in front of their lost love's ghosts. Then, in slow motion, they had fallen into each other's arms refusing to leave their places if only a few moments.

When the time to say goodbye had come, both Jackie and Pete had been unable to separate. 

Nothing chained Jackie in this universe anymore, except Rose, which was why it was out of the question for her to leave. Not without her daughter, that is. As for Pete, he couldn't stomach to leave his responsabilities as defender of his universe.

The hank seemed inextricable. If the Doctor didn't find a magic remedy, their farewells were going to be heartbreaking. Parting would mean that their spouses would have died twice. Inconceivable.

The Doctor turned to Rose. “We won't separate them? How could we? Pete will stay with us, in this universe, we'll find them a place where begin a brand new life, together.” 

“But Doctor... what about Pete's world? We can't leave it defenceless.” Rose exclaimed.

“They have got Jake!” The Metacrisis interjected gently.

Everyboody looked at him expectantly.

“Well, Pete can leave everything into Jake's capable hands. If Mickey doesn't accept the mission, that is!” He explained. A little birdie told him that indeed he wouldn't. 

 

♂♀

 

The Doctor and the Metacrisis stood side by side, identical expressions on their handsome faces, talking quietly.

Rose watched them, tenderly, for a brief moment, then turned her attention to Martha and Mickey who were talking animatedly holding hands. For them too it was the end of the journey, they had reached their destinations: they had found each other. She was very happy for them. They deserved it, especially after everything they had gone through in their love lives.

Jackie and Sarah Jane exchanged proudly pictures and souvenirs about Rose's and Luke's youth. 

Pete, not far, was looking adoringly at Jackie, a contented smile on his lips. 

Jack was shamelessly and, for once, unsuccessfully flirting with Donna.

Everybody seemed so happy.

Rose stroked affectionately the TARDIS' console. She asked herself if it was the end of the journey. No, it was just the beginning. The TARDIS hummed happily in approval.

 

♂♀

 

Time had come for goodbyes. One by one they left the TARDIS: Sarah Jane anxious to be reunited with her son, and happy to see the Doctor finally fulfilled and at peace. She was happy and finally completely freed from a distorted souvenir, and twenty years old deceived hopes. Sarah Jane was determined to continue living her future, and not pass it waiting for a chimera as she had done for years and years, but she had already proved to be more than capable of that. 

Jack, Martha and Mickey, together, and hand in hand, were heading towards new and adventurous lives with Torchwood.

Something told the Doctor that, soon, it might well be a second generation of Smith-Jones on board, for a visit or a couple of adventures. He smiled fondly; his TARDIS would never be crowded enough for his liking.

 

There remained one very last trip to perform: Dårlig Ulv Stranden, aka Bad Wolf Bay, Norway, Earth, Parallel Universe. This time, however, there wouldn't be heartbreaking farewell bathed with tears and feelings left unsaid —as he had read in that, luckily aborted, Timeline— but just a quick stop to fetch Pete's possession and leave the managements to Jake.

 

The Metacrisis was out the first, hopping with excitement. “Ah! How beautiful. And... invigorating. Brrrr.”

“Why the hell in Norway? Couldn't have driven, flown, whatever, directly to London? You and your driving, not being able to take us to the right place. At least it's the right time, I hope? And I expected that with _two_ Doctors, you'd have been able to drive decently. Useless you are!” Jackie couldn't help grumble.

“Jackie, that's the TARDIS. She had to protect us from a paradox, Timelines aborted and whatnot. Bad Wolf Bay were to happen, one way or another. But this time we are here together, and we won't stay! Don't try to understand.” The Doctor made her an affectionate mocking pout.

 

♂♀

 

_One hundred and a few (more or less) decades later, somewhere in the Milky Way, an Art Deco style Pub, gently lit..._

 

“Hi Docs, hello beautiful!” A very familiar dark-haired, blue-eyed man, sat, smiling, at the table where Rose and the Doctors sipped their rainbow-coloured aperitifs.

“You've regenerated, I see. Ginger eh? Which one are you? The ginger but still rude, or the rude and still not ginger?”

“Nice to welcome you, thank-you very much. After all this time, it's pleasant,” said the brown-haired Doctor, “I'm the old one, by the way.”

“And I'm the new one.” The Metacrisis pointed his thumb towards his chest.

“And how is that possible? I thought you couldn't regenerate,” asked the newcomer.

The ginger Doctor laughed wholeheartedly, as if it were a very good joke: "I'm actually much more Time Lord than we had thought. Smashing innit?”

Jack arched his right brow and gave them a puzzled look.

“I've got two hearts. Again. The second grew when I regenerated. Rose and I have regenerated together, by the way. It was quite the stunt, I can tell you! So, two hearts again! That's good, I hated having only one,” he said making a disgusted grimace. He pointed his forefinger at Jack. “thou art always the same, I see.” 

“So is that one,” said Jack pointing in turn his thumb at the brown-haired Doctor.

“You'll know that Rose likes this model very much, so why change?” The Tenth Doctor, extremely satisfied with himself, straightened his tie.

“Oi.” Rose gave him a slap on the shoulder. “I'm just used to this you, that's all.”

“Oi, she likes _this_ model too,” said at the same time the ginger Doctor.

“No wonder, we are practically identical, and you took all your charm from me!”

“Oi, do you mind?” 

“Admit it, Rose love us like that, I'm dashing after all. It's better than 'big ears' or the pretty boy—“

“Oi!”

Jack laughed at their verbal fencing, then smiled tenderly: “Rose, you're as beautiful as ever, you don't look to have aged a single day. Come into my arms for a big squashing cuddle—”

“Oi. That's _my_ wife!” Exclaimed, in unison, the Doctors.

“I knew I'd take them for a ride.” The newcomer made a little wink to Rose.

“One can never be too sure!” 

“I'm taken, by the way,” Jack acknowledged.

“About marriage and consequences...we've got some news for you.” The brown-haired Doctor was literally beaming.

“What, another one? Have you asked Donna what she thinks about it? It's already pretty crowded at hers,” Jack said with a fake horrified expression, but actually really delighted. 

“Oh, she doesn't mind! And yes, another one, or two... Bad Wolf making us really compatible, life expectancy and the like... we take advantage of it.” The brown-haired Doctor looked adoringly at Rose taking her hand. 

“Furthermore we aren't finished with the catching up... and we've got all the time in world,” continued the ginger Doctor taking her other hand.


End file.
